Another Bloody Birthday
by the.ravenclaw.woods
Summary: Hermione Granger hasn't seen Charlie Weasley in nearly two years. When she runs into him at Albus's birthday party, it would seem that Charlie finally sees her as... well, a *woman.* -A short and sweet romance. No Ron-bashing. My favorite sort of FF.-
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that Hermione was tired of the Weasleys.

She was now the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (a department name she was actively working to change to sound less wizard-centric). And her work demanded, more often than not, her supposed time off. Just the weekend before, for instance, she'd gone off into the Forbidden Forest to discuss a peace treaty with the centaurs, who'd recently taken up the age-old custom of abducting unsuspecting witches for short periods of time. Although the witches always returned whole and rather happily… _sated_ , the incidences didn't help the unease in co-species relations, which interfered with her ultimate goal of harmonic coexistence among all creatures of the wizarding world.

And when she'd returned home and wanted nothing more than a long, hot bath, she checked her schedule to see that she needed to attend Ginny's birthday party at the Burrow, starting in _seven minutes_. After coming home from that shindig, exhausted and covered in cake thanks to James and Albus, she decided the luxurious, vanilla and sandalwood oiled bubble bath could be delayed to this coming weekend. But then she nearly screamed when, upon evaluating her schedule, she noted she was expected to arrive for Albus's third birthday, too, at the Burrow.

Hermione always enjoyed herself at the Burrow. So, no, she wasn't exactly _tired_ of everyone.

"It's just too many damned birthdays," she said to Harry at lunch earlier that week.

Harry chuckled. "I'm married to a Weasley, Hermione. You're preaching to the choir, here."

"Well, it makes sense for you. How am I at the Burrow at least thrice a bloody month on my precious days off—"

"It's Molly. Her empty nest syndrome has her arranging a party for every little reason. Not just birthdays, you know."

"I know, Harry. I was there for Percy's promotion celebration—"

"Don't forget Bill and Fleur's pregnancy announcement party—"

"Oh God. Yes. And all your and Ginny's pregnancy parties—"

"And the gender reveals, the christenings, the—"

Birthdays. All the bloody birthdays." Harry chuckled. "You know, you don't have to attend each one. No one's holding you hostage. Sure, we'll miss you, but—"

"I just feel bad," Hermione said. "I missed so much after the break up, and now that Ron and I are on speaking terms again, I just… I don't want to miss anything. I feel like you're all my family."

Harry put his hand on hers. "You _are_ family, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "And that's why I'm going to _another_ birthday party at the Burrow on Saturday."

"Leave early," Harry shrugged.

Hermione snorted. "Have you ever tried sneaking out of a gathering under the nose of Molly Weasley?"

"Good point. But maybe Ginny and I can distract her."

"Oh, would you, Harry? Maybe after an hour, perhaps?"

"Sure. I'll talk to Ginny tonight."

And with that promise, Hermione found herself actually looking forward to another bloody birthday.

XXX

"Oh, hello Hermione!" Molly Weasley wrapped her arms around Hermione with such force that one might assume they hadn't just seen one another, oh, the weekend before.

"Hi, Molly," Hermione choked into her hair.

"Oh, how nice of you to bring a gift for sweet Albus! I'll take that to the present pile over there, darling, you go mingle!"

Hermione said her hellos to the various branches of the Weasley tree, even a mercifully not-awkward encounter with Ron and his new girlfriend, Aurora, a distant cousin of Fleur's. She finally found Ginny in the kitchen, placing candles on the cake.

"Fancy a drink?" Ginny asked.

"A drink?" Hermione looked around. "You mean juice?"

Ginny winked and picked up a candle, tapped it with her wand, and it transfigured into a small jar of firewiskey.

"A little heavy for your child's third birthday party, yeah?" Hermione had already conjured glasses from the cupboards.

"Harry told me you're been having a hard time of it." Ginny poured a hefty amount into both their cups.

"It's not bad, not really. Just can't seem to find a moment for myself."

Ginny laughed and tapped the bottle, this time to turn it into a hair needle and set her bun with it. "Tell me about it."

"I know it's crass of me to complain to you of all people, with your littles—"

"Well, I have Harry and Mum to help. I get more time off than you, I think."

Hermione sipped her firewhisky, wanting to savor the bite. She sighed and leaned back on the counter. "Thanks a lot, Gin. I fucking needed this."

Ginny's eyes lit up at something behind Hermione. Before Hermione could turn her head to see, Gin had bounced out of the kitchen and into Charlie Weasley's arms.

"Charlie! I didn't know you were coming!"

Charlie laughed and hugged her tightly in return. "Well, I wanted to surprise Mum."

"Oh, she's going to lose it! Go on, she's off in the living room, won't stop fussing about."

"Hold on," Charlie said, turning to Hermione. "Hey!"

"Hey, Charlie, nice to see you," Hermione smiled as she leaned over for a hug. She caught Charlie giving her a quick once over before the embrace, which gave her pause. But then she sank into his warmth and his… were those his pectoral muscles? Merlin, they were like enormous river rocks!

"Wow," he said, breaking the hug, his eyes lingering at her body once again. "You look, wow, you look great!"

Hermione laughed. "Thanks, Charlie, and so do you." Bloody hell, so did he. His arms bulged out of his t-shirt, and Hermione could practically count his abdominal muscles from across the kitchen. His hair was a bit shaggy and hung over his eyes a touch. Hermione had noticed long ago that Charlie was the only Weasley whose eyelashes and brows grew in brown, and with the light scuff he sported, he looked… well, good enough to eat.

"Well, go on," Ginny said, grabbing Charlie's shoulder. "Mum's this way." She gave Hermione a wide-eyed look as she led him out, mouthing, _What was that?_ Hermione shook her head and mouthed back _, I have no bloody idea._

She _heard_ the moment Molly laid eyes on Charlie, hell, wouldn't surprise her if Molly's shrieks could be detected all the way to Romania. Hermione laughed into her firewhisky, enjoying the warmth that had settled into her fingers and toes.

But there was another component to that warmth that wasn't entirely due to the alcohol. The way Charlie had just looked at her… twice! What on earth was that about?

She glanced down at her outfit—a cornflower blue wrap dress that showed off her figure well enough, she supposed, but it certainly wasn't anything special. It suddenly occurred to her, the last time she'd seen Charlie, she was still emaciated from the war. It took years to put on some weight, and Merlin's beard, was she glad about it. She finally had hips! An arse! Even cleavage, for Godric's sake!

Perhaps that's what it was. Charlie was expecting his little brother's skinny friend, and he'd met, well, a woman, now, officially in her early twenties as of a couple months ago. She felt flattered, sure, but expected he'd go back to seeing her as that little friend once more after getting over the shock.  
She wandered about some more, mingling, as Molly liked referring to it, trying very hard not to look for Charlie's absurdly broad shoulders, nor his very tight bottom as he bent over to pick up Albus. Harry put his arm around her and she nearly jumped, afraid she'd been caught perving. But Harry just grinned and said, "Tossed yet?"

Hermione playfully punched his arm. "Of course not. It's one glass, not the whole bottle."

"After one glass of wine at George's wedding, you hit on Neville Longbottom."

"Well, that's because Neville's gotten quite…" -she'd nearly finished the sentence with _lickable_ , but thought Harry wouldn't appreciate the imagery- "…handsome."

"Hermione, you were running your hands through his hair. Kept calling him 'Naughty Neville,' asking him when he'd give you a ride on his broomst—"

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "I was lonely." Harry raised an eyebrow. "And yes, a bit pissed. Oh, alright, a lot pissed. That wine—bubbleberry, was it?— was the strongest I'd ever had! Owled Neville a long apology afterward. Haven't been able to look him in the eye since."

"You mean he never took you up on your offer?"

"Well," Hermione looked at her toes.

"Oh, gods, no details, please," Harry said, hands up.

"No, no, not like that. He asked me to coffee. But I was mortified, I just… couldn't."

"You're going to have to go on a date sometime, Hermione. An actual, real live—"

"Harry, please," Hermione said, throwing back the last of the firewhisky. "I agree, alright? Just—let's not discuss this now."

Just as Harry was about to respond, Ginny appeared. "Hermione, when do you need me and Harry to help you escape?"

"Oh, uh—" Hermione glanced at Charlie, who was now playing some sort of tickle war game with both Albus and James. She quickly turned away to see Ginny's raised eyebrow and said, "Maybe in about twenty? 'Round caketime?"

"You're sure?" Harry said. "You've been here for over an hour already."

"Yeah," Hermione said quickly, ignoring Ginny's other raised eyebrow. "I'm enjoying myself. Wouldn't mind a little while longer, really."

"Alright, then."

Hermione edged her way over to Charlie for the next fifteen minutes, but it seemed anytime she got close enough to start a conversation, someone would steal her away to ask her about the job (busy as usual), any good books she's read lately (actually, _The Case for One House: An Exploration of Immense Unity at Hogwarts and Beyond_ ), and, in the case of Fleur, her love life (that one was met with a stifled snort.)

"Okay!" Molly appeared seemingly out of nowhere in the midst of everything. "Cake cutting very soon!" She glanced around. "Looks like everyone is… wait, where's Charlie?"

"He went upstairs," Ron said with a mouthful of cheese and crackers. "Needed to find some of his old dragon toys for the toddler class he's teaching at the reservation."

"Oh, how sweet!" Molly said. "Well, will someone run and get him? Ginny, will you tell Charlie to come down for cake?"

"Uh, Mum," Ginny said, struggling with a squirming Albus while James tried to climb her leg. "Why don't you ask Hermione? She'd love to grab Charlie; they were getting on quite well earlier."

"What?" Hermione said, looking up.

"Hermione, won't you be a dear and let Charlie know about the cake? I'd yell him down, but I've been told by a certain _someone_ -" Molly gave her daughter an icy look—"that my voice has been rather all-encompassing today."

"Eardrum- shattering, Mum, were the words I used," Ginny said, trying to balance both boys in her arms.

"I—uh—sure, Molly," Hermione sputtered.

Molly squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "Thank you! Oh, good Godric, looks like the gnomes are chasing poor Victoire around the garden again. BILL! ARTHUR!"

Hermione winced at the volume as Molly ran off. Then she glared at Ginny, who shooed Albus and James out the door. "What?" Ginny asked.

"You know what," Hermione said, arms crossed.

"Oh, relax. I was just teasing. Couldn't help it, considering how he drooled over you earlier. Go get him and then Harry and I will sneak you out just after the birthday song."

"Fine." Hermione let out a huff, trying to look anything but pleased.

"Hey, if it bothers you that much, I'll go get him, alright?"

"No, no," Hermione said. She'd expended enough effort trying to talk to him, after all. "I'll go. Be back in a moment." She set off.


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: LEMON ahead! The sort of thing you'd read in a modern romance novel._

Chapter Two

She assumed Charlie would be in his old room and headed that way, but stopped when she saw the twins' door slightly ajar. Inside, she saw his back as he sat on Fred's bed.

"Uh," she knocked lightly. "Charlie?"

He whipped his head around, and Hermione could see that his eyes were glassy. "Hey, Hermione," he said, smiling a bit sadly, his voice gruff.

"Are you alright?" She walked around so she faced him. He answered by handing her a photo. She held it close: him with the twins, smiling, sticking out their tongues between trying to knock each other down. They all looked so much younger.

"It's from when the family dropped me off at Romania for the first time," Charlie said.

Hermione smiled and nodded. She felt like she should say something profound and heartfelt, but nothing seemed right. Instead, she gave the photo back and said, "Nothing's changed in here at all, has it?"

"No. All of our rooms have been converted to playrooms for grandchildren, basically. And guest rooms, of course. But she can't bear to change… this." He gestured to the quidditch jerseys hung on the walls, the Gryffindor banners strung on the floating ball light, the faded boxes of first-edition Zonko's products tossed about on the desks.

"God, it must kill George every time he visits."

"Oh, he won't go near it. I imagine it's for the best."

"Right." Hermione shifted awkwardly until she remembered her purpose there. "Right, well, your mum wanted me to tell you that the cake and the singing and all that will be had in a short bit. And you should pop down when you're ready."

He smiled and stretched his arms out, placing the frame back on the nightstand. "Thanks, Hermione."

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, trying to ignore the distinguished feel of his bicep. "I'm sorry it hit you again. I don't know if it will ever go away."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's worse, though, for Mum and Dad. And George."

"Don't do that," Hermione said. "Don't discount your grief like that. He was your brother, too, for Godric's sake."

He grinned then, a sort of feral grin that made Hermione instantly weak at the knees. "Fred liked you a lot, you know."

"Well, I liked him, too. Thought he was brilliant, really, even if all his pranks drove me mad."

"That's what Fred liked about you. Said you were quite attractive when your hair got all—," he waved at his own head—" _bouncy_ while scolding them."

Hermione felt a blush creep up her neck and reach her cheeks. "Oh. _Oh_. I didn't—"

Charlie leaned back on the bed and laughed. Hermione stared at the clenching in his abs and finally said, "What on earth, Charles Fabian Weasley, is so bloody funny?"

This made him laugh even harder, and so she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand to guide him downstairs, but he pulled her to him in a hug, his body still shaking with laughter. "Thank you," he finally said, letting her go. "For making me feel better."

She stood back and smiled. "Anytime, Charlie." She bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek. But he turned at the last moment and they met at the lips. It was soft and strange, and Hermione gasped and jumped back.

Charlie's face fell instantly. "Oh, Gods, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I thought… I mean, you were with R—"

Hermione interrupted his sentence with another kiss on the mouth, this one deliberate. She certainly didn't want to hear the R-word now of all times and this seemed like the best way to stop it. More than that, she wanted Charlie. That soft, accidental kiss pretty much drenched her knickers and she wasn't ready to stop at that.

She opened her mouth slightly and sucked on his lower lip, which made him groan and pull her over so that she straddled his hips. This move made them both delirious with lust. Hermione shoved her tongue into Charlie's mouth and he ran his fingers down her back to cup her arse. She rubbed her hands down his pecs, his abs, fingering the 'v' of his hips. She nearly yelled out when he thrusted up against her, his enormous erection throbbing on her clit.

She broke the kiss and pushed up, chest heaving. "Your mother's going to come to find you."

He reached down into his back pocket, grabbed his wand, locked the door and cast a silencing spell in one movement.

She put her hands on her hips and said, "If you think that's going to stop Molly Weasley for more than five minutes—"

He chuckled, put his hands on her hips, lifted her up and placed her next to him. She nearly whimpered at the loss of contact, but he stood, looked out the window at his parents chasing away the gnomes that were after the grandkids. He flicked his wand and dozens of additional gnomes popped up out of the yard and to the ground in dull thuds. The children squealed in joy and Molly screamed in frustration, yelling at Arthur to grab the children that were already yards ahead, each in a different direction.

"That'll keep her for a bit," he said, bending over as he gently pushed her back on the bed.

"That's not very…" Hermione stopped as Charlie placed long, warm kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

He popped his head up. "Yes?"

"Nice. Not very nice." She found herself breathless.

"I can be very _not nice_ when I want to be, Hermione." He grinned and, with a twirl of his fingers, her dress unwrapped itself in two seconds, leaving her in her simple black cotton bra and knickers.

"Charlie!" she gasped.

He frowned. "Are you sure you want to…"

"Yes," she said, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him down. It had been too damned long and Charlie had looked too damned hot today. To show him how much she wanted it, she wrapped her legs around and ground into his cock, causing him to stop kissing her in order to grunt and grind back. Hermione could already see stars.

They kissed feverishly once more. Hermione ran her nails down his back and he gave a growl that made her hair stand up. He wrapped his giant, calloused hand around her breast and kneaded until she moaned, then repeated on the other side.

He lowered to pull her bra down, taking a nipple between his teeth. Hermione arched her back up as he pinched the other one between his fingertips. She pushed him back roughly when she couldn't take it anymore.

"Take off your shirt," she said. "Now." He laughed and obeyed. He was chiseled like a god, if gods were covered in scars from dragon claws, teeth and fire. Hermione stared in awe, feeling rather stupid but helpless all the same. "Gods, you're beautiful," she whispered. She found herself delighted to see the tips of his ears redden.

He smiled and pulled her knickers down, tossing her legs over his shoulders as he lowered himself even more.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

"What do you think? I'm going to lick your cunt."

She suppressed a shudder at his admission and his _language_ as she hissed, "No! We don't have time for that. Just… just fuck me. Please."

He gave her a wild, lopsided grin and glanced out the window at the chaos. "We have time."

"Charles Fabian Weasley, your mother sent me up her to—" he interrupted her with a long, hot lick from her opening to her clit. He continued to lap at the latter, dragging the wide of his tongue every which way. She could barely breathe as her thighs trembled.

After a minute, he paused. "Do you want me stop?"

"What? No!" She pulled his head back to her. He chuckled and a bit of his scruff scraped against her, sending her right to the edge. His tongue returned and flung her promptly over it. "Oh, God, Charlie," she moaned as she shuddered against him.

He stood, his eyes intent as he unbuckled his belt. He dropped his trousers and boxers and lowered over her, positioning the head of his cock right on her slit.

"Wait," she whispered. He pulled back and she pushed him over, climbing on top of him. She seemed to regain some sense as she looked around and said, "Oh, God. We're still on Fred's bed."

Charlie glanced around thoughtfully. "You think he'd care?"

She paused. No, Fred would probably egg them on, then tease them mercilessly about it. She dropped herself, filling up with Charlie's warm and deliciously thick erection as she moaned.

He gave a guttural sound as he rolled his hips under her. "Holy fuck, Hermione," he gasped.

He reached for her hips and she slapped his hands away. "None of that," she said. "This is payback for you… _licking_ me when I explicitly said we didn't have time."

She lifted and lowered herself slowly, increasing her speed only slightly each time. He put his hands behind his head. "If this is payback…" his eyes rolled back as she dropped herself harder than before. "I'll—oh, gods—I think I'll try to offend you more often."

Hermione laughed, but it was cut short by Molly's yell up the stairs. "CAKE CUTTING! FIVE MINUTES, YOU TWO!"

Hermione looked at him, eyes wide. He froze for a second, then grabbed her waist and flipped her over. "Looks like payback will have to wait, love." He climbed up and entered her quickly. He thrusted hard and fast, causing the bed to rumble against the wall, eliciting shrieks from her. He slowed only to say, "It'll take us… a minute to dress? Let's see if I can make you come in under four. Again."

Turned out, he could.

The family had already gathered around the cake when they returned. As everyone sang, Ginny playfully hit her in the shoulder. "What took so long?"

"He was upset about Fred. I think he was crying when I came in."

Ginny blinked, not expecting this. "Really? Charlie's kept those emotions rather hidden. From all of us." She glanced at her brother as his arms wrapped around Harry and Ron, bellowing as loud as he could. "He looks pretty chipper now, though." Then she looked at Hermione suspiciously. "Wait, why are you all flushed? And your hair looks a little—"

"I comforted him, Gin! There was… hugging." It wasn't a lie.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Don't look at me like that," Hermione said as everyone erupted into clapping and whistles.

"Make a wish!" Molly said. Albus blew so hard that nothing but spit bubbles came out of his mouth. Everyone laughed as Harry helped him blow the candles out.

"Hmm," Ginny said. "Well, Mum's distracted enough with grandchildren photos. Harry and I could lead the group into a flash mob and I doubt she'd notice. Let's see you off, then."

"Uh," Hermione tried not to look for Charlie again. Surely that's exactly what Ginny was baiting her to do. "Sure. Let's."

As she entered her flat by floo, she flung herself on the sofa. "Holy shit," she said. She'd fucked _Charlie Weasley_. And it had been the best shag of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

_Note: This one's a bit shorter, but there will be much longer chapters ahead to make up for it. Enjoy._

Chapter Three

Hermione knew the chance of her running into Charlie again, two weeks later, at Arthur's birthday party (hosted, where else, but the Burrow?), was rather nonexistent, but she couldn't stop feeling giddy as she got ready.

Charlie had moved to be near his parents after the war for nearly a year, but for the better part of that year, she'd been avoiding Ron and had thereby seen Charlie perhaps once. After he returned to Romania, it took _two years_ to run into him again, even though she spent so much time at his parents' home she was certain Molly would scarcely notice if she secretly moved in.

It was absurd to expect she'd see him twice in a month. She told herself this as she pulled on a matching red lace bra and knickers. She reminded herself again as she pulled out her other wrap dress from her wardrobe, a burgundy number with the most cleavage she could wear to a Weasley gathering without garnering double-takes. And she reminded herself once more of the fact that Charlie would probably, in fact, not be present tonight as she rubbed a perfume oil into her pulse points, a new purchase called "Bed of Roses," infused with key potion ingredients that "artfully and subtly enhanced a witch's desirability."

It was Ginny who first noticed Hermione's efforts. "Damn, woman," she said, looking at her up and down. She reached and took Hermione's wrist to her face. "What is this? Smells so sexy!"

"Oh, just this number I found from Malfoy's Apothecary."

"Oh, what's it called? I'm going to have to get a bottle."

Hermione felt her face warm slightly, but she willed the blush away. "Oh, I forgot the name in its entirety. Something to do with roses."

"He's really done well for himself, hasn't he? Malfoy, that is. I was reluctant to try his stuff, but his Elderwonder Cough Syrup works miracles on the boys when they're down and out."

"Oh, I know! If he weren't still so bloody arrogant, I might even feel proud of him, with all the muggle charity causes he donates to."

Molly had been circling them like a shark by then, and Hermione smiled. "Hi, Molly."

"Oh, Hermione!" Molly pounced and clung to her just as tightly as when she and Ron had announced their engagement over three years prior. When she pulled back, Hermione could see tears running down Molly's cheeks.

"Oh my goodness, Molly, what's the matter?"

"Oh," Molly pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "I just spoke with Charlie for a long while after Albus's birthday. And he said how he'd been feeling about Fred and how you helped him with his grief."

"Oh...?" Hermione couldn't help but need elaboration. Surely he didn't tell her about _that_.

"Yes, you wonderful woman. Charlie and Bill, they haven't been able to be as _open_ with their emotions and I'm just so glad you were there with Charlie needed to talk, just like Bill has Fleur."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. " _Just_ like Bill and Fleur?"

"Oh, you know what I mean. Good friends. I'm so glad you're here; Charlie's going to be thrilled to see you."

"Oh," Hermione said, plucking a piece of lint off her shoulder. "Charlie's coming, is he?"

"Oh, yes, wasn't planning on it for some dragon emergency or another but soon as he found out you were coming, Hermione, he said he'd be here. I think he may need someone to talk to again, later, privately." Molly had lowered her voice to a conspirator's whisper. She turned and saw George and Angelica popping through the floo in the adjacent room. "Oh, you two! Look at you!" She promptly left Hermione alone with Ginny, whose eyebrow was now nearly touching her hairline.

"I knew it!" Ginny looked victorious.

"Knew what?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Charlie has a thing for you!"

"Oh." Hermione couldn't help the relief that flooded her. "I don't know…"

"Come on, Hermione. You should've seen the way he looked at you! Like he wanted to pour firewhisky all over your body and drink you up! Like you were one of his bloody dragons."

"Are you suggesting your brother is into bestiality?"

"In an alternate universe where such things were accepted, yes. I would put down a thousand galleons for Charlie shagging dragons."

"Say what, sis?"

Ginny turned around to catch Charlie wrapping his arms around her. "I was just telling Hermione how you're _really_ into your dragons."

"Oh?" He straightened and looked at Hermione with a wicked grin and wink. Hermione could feel her knickers dampen at the sight. "Nice to see you again, Hermione." He leaned over and hugged her, but Hermione noted that there was nothing chaste about the gesture, with his hand so low on her back he could probably feel the lining of the lace underneath.

"Nice to see you, too, Charlie," Hemione smiled and took a quick step back, not wanting anyone to witness his near-fondle of her.

"Hey, I need to check on Harry and the kids. See you guys in a few." Ginny nodded at Hermione with a very knowing look and disappeared into the thick of people behind her.

Charlie ignored Ginny by gazing hungrily at Hermione, from her hair to her toes and back up again. "Wow, you look bloody good, Hermione."

Hermione briefly wondered if he'd ever said that to any of his dragons and giggled. "Uh, thanks, Charlie." She put her hands on her hips. "Now, what, exactly, did you tell your mother about me _comforting_ you?"

"Oh, that. Just told her how you cheered me up is all." He smiled.

"You told her _how_." Hermione said, incredulous.

"Well, I left out some things. The more naughty bits." He waggled his eyebrows and cracked his knuckles while Hermione tried to look anywhere but the tense cuts of his arm muscles through his thin, long-sleeved shirt. "Why, did she say something to you?"

"Just thanked me for tending to your grief."

"Yeah, I did tell her I was upset about Fred, that seeing you made me feel much, much," he took two steps forward, so close now that her nipples practically grazed his upper abdominals. " _Much_ better."

Hermione swallowed. "Oh."

"What do you say we take this conversation upstairs? I think I need some more cheer." He eyed her cleavage, then looked up and winked.

"How are we going to sneak away without anyone noticing?" Hermione hissed, warning him to quiet down with a finger to her lips.

"Let's not _sneak away_ then, as you so raunchily put it." He gave her that delicious grin of his and she felt the beginnings of a warm throb between her legs. He turned and said, "Mum?"

Molly popped out of seemingly nowhere. "Yes, dear?"

"Remember how I needed some of my old dragon toys for that tot class? Forgot to get 'em last time, as I was rather—" he glanced at Hermione with a twinkle in his eye—"distracted."

"Oh, yes, Charlie. I actually put them all in a box in your old room. Go ahead, you're welcome to them." She paused. "Say, why don't you take Hermione with you? You two could have a long chat while you're up there, yeah?" She smiled knowingly at Hermione, who wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Charlie turned to Hermione with a look of false wonder. "Great idea, Mum! Hermione and I will have a nice, long _chat_." He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

The last thing Hermione caught before ascending the stairs was Ginny's face as she mouthed, _Told you so_.


	4. Chapter 4

_Note: Lemon ahead!_

Hermione followed Charlie into his old quarters, which was now a gorgeous, cozy guest room, centering a giant bed topped with pillows and throws, complete with a fireplace. Charlie flicked his wand it its general direction until it cackled with warm glow.

"So you're teaching a toddler class?" Hermione asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, well. After I broke my hip, my employers had me at the desk a few too many days a week." He grimaced at the word _desk_. "So I noticed that all these biologists and potioneers and and dragonologists coming 'round often brought their children, who were beyond disappointed to find we weren't keen on letting them near the beasts. So I decided to start teaching some classes, let 'em feel like they're getting a real experience. Learn a bit, visit some eggs and babies. They adore it. Plus it makes me feel useful as I heal up."

"Wow," Hermione said, watching him rummage through the large box Molly had labeled 'CHARLIE, HERE ARE YOUR DRAGONS.' "That's such a great idea."

"Yeah, it's worked so well that they're thinking of putting in a small educational building just for the kids. They'll hire some proper teachers once I'm back in the field full-time."

"I'm sure you're an amazing teacher, Charlie."

"Yeah?" he grinned at her. "They like me enough, I suppose." He pulled out a small, sleeping replica of a golden-scaled dragon. "You know what this is?"

"That would be—" Hermione paused, eyes narrowed. "The Sumatran Spiraltongue."

He gave her a wide, lopsided grin. "Of course you'd know that. What you probably don't know, I reckon, is this is also a Dragonatia Relic 3.0, collector's edition. Vintage by now." He rubbed the beast's head and it sprang to life, curling its tail around his finger. It glanced at Charlie and flew to his shoulder and curled up, releasing a tiny roar that revealed its namesake: a fiery red tongue that curled in on itself twice.

"That's just gorgeous!" Hermione breathed.

Charlie laughed and ran a finger down its head again and it went back to sleep. "The little ones are going to lose their minds over her." He gently placed it back in the box and turned his attention back to Hermione. The glint in his eye sent a flurry of butterflies into her stomach.

"So how'd you break your hip, anyway?" she asked, wringing her hands.

He shrugged and plopped down on the bed next to her, so close that their bodies aligned. "Long story short, got stomped on by an Ironbelly. An enormous one. Snapped a fair amount of my bones, but my hip in particular was crushed to pieces." He gestured to his right side.

"Your hip seemed, ah, just fine the last time I saw you."

He laughed and turned so their faces were just inches apart. "Well, it's just about good now. They just want me to be careful for another month or so." He leaned over, pushing a tendril of her hair behind her ear. He dragged his lips down the side of her neck, mumbling in a voice like gravel, "You smell really good, love."

He pushed her back on the bed and worked his way down to her cleavage, sucking and licking until she gasped. He carefully untied the waist straps of her dress and opened each side, giving a low whistle upon the reveal of her lacey underthings.

"Charlie," she said, a slight warning in her voice. He looked up, concerned. "You've led your mother to believe I'm up here consoling you and helping you work out your _issues_ , but instead we're—"she gestured to her red lace and the bulge threatening to break the zipper of his jeans. "It's unethical."

He stared at her for a moment before roaring with laughter. Hermione felt a bit miffed until he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione, but please, don't feel bad about this. I don't want you to be my mind healer. I just want, well, _you_." He dropped his head down, taking a nipple into his mouth through the lace, scraping with his teeth as she cried out, then releasing. "Besides, you _are_ helping me. Just not the way she's assuming. I'm supposed to be stretching my hips every day, after all." He winked. "But if you want to enlighten her, by all means." He pulled her bra straps down and licked each nipple slowly, until Hermione moaned and arched her back.

"Well," she sputtered. "I suppose I'll spare her the details. But you could at least lock the door. We can't have her walking in and finding me riding your face or some such."

Charlie lifted his head up fast. "That's the best idea I've heard all day."

"Surely you're referencing the door locking."

He chuckled and locked it with his wand. Hermione added a wandless _muffliato_. She pulled up his top, desperate to run her fingers over his muscles. After he dropped his shirt to the ground, he flicked his wand so her knickers slid down her legs and onto the floor. He then flipped her over so she straddled his chest.

Reading the look on his face, Hermione shook her head. "No."

Charlie grinned. "You don't even know what I'm propositioning."

"I absolutely know it. I just suggested it in _jest_ and you, you with your dirty mind—"

" _My_ dirty mind? You just admitted you thought it up!"

"We don't have time for foreplay. Someone's going to come—"

"Exactly," Charlie interrupted, pulling her up until her clit rested between his lips. She gulped and stilled her body, but it betrayed her by jerking deeper into his mouth.

"Oh, Godric," she whispered as he licked her, hands on her hips, encouraging her to move. She grabbed the headboard for balance and worked her pelvis into a rhythm with his tongue. He controlled the speed of contact while she worked on the pressure, all until she found herself riding his mouth slowly, moaning obscenities all the while.

The first orgasm was so soft she wasn't even sure what she was experiencing at first—a warming, a tingling. The next one was stronger, the one after stronger still, and on and on until the final one felt like it might kill her. She screamed and collapsed into the side of the bed, afraid she was suffocating him with the carelessness of her pleasure.

"Oh, fucking, _fuck_ ," she said between hyperventilated breaths. "I've never come so much in my life."

Charlie chuckled. "That's what a man likes to hear," he said, reaching for her.

She slapped his hand away. "I'm serious. Don't," she inhaled, "…touch me yet. Or else I'll burst."

He cocked his head slightly. "How many times did you come?"

Hermione had finally gotten a handle on her breath. "I lost count after eleven."

"Eleven!" Charlie leaned back and laughed. "And here you were, trying to tell me we didn't have time—"

"We didn't! We don't!" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Worth it, yeah?"

Hermione didn't respond. She crawled over him and started unbuckling his belt. He helped her by kicking his clothes off, after which his erection, so hard and thick and long, bobbed for a bit. She positioned herself so that her mouth was just above it, but he grabbed her by the arms and lifted her up. "None of that, love."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "And why not?"

He gave her a half smile. "Well, it's been a whole month, yeah? And I have a hard enough time lasting longer than three minutes with you."

"I beg your pardon?" She wasn't expecting that and looked at him deeply to see if he was joking. His face remained earnest.

"Please, Hermione. Let me savor you." His voice was so husky and pleading, she couldn't help but give in.

She straddled his hips and lowered herself slowly. His hands were on her waist but she pushed them away. "I'll tell you when you can touch me."

"Payback?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yes, payback, you dragon taming perv." She rode him slowly at first, probably torturously, but she needed to ease into it after what he just did to her. She could tell he was desperate to touch her as he finally placed his fidgeting hands behind his head.

He watched her with such an intensity, it was as though he'd never had a woman on top before, when Hermione knew he'd had his share of witches before her. His eyes lingered over her body as it bounced and jiggled about and she felt positively bashful, despite having _just_ straddled his face. Eventually, she forced herself to focus on _him_ : how his eyes rolled back when she dropped a little more forcefully, his groans when she tilted her hips to let him in even deeper, the clench in his abs as he forced himself to hold back, to give her control.

Finally, she said, "Touch me, Charlie."

His flung his arms forward, first to her breasts, kneading with thumbs on her nipples, then her hips as he guided her up and down faster and harder. As she came, he finally led his hands to cradle her face, pulling her forward so they could kiss. And when he unraveled just afterward, she kept kissing him until their final thrust.

XXX

Hermione and Charlie went their separate ways after returning to the party. He stayed near Bill and Fred while she did shots of 'glacierbourbon,' a new sort of firewhisky from the States that turned ice-cold in the throat, along with Ginny, Harry and Arthur. (They transfigured their beverages into mundane objects whenever Molly neared, but she caught on as it gradually became more difficult in their inebriation and Arthur turned his into an enormous, singing pumpkin.)

As things started winding down, Hermione wrapped herself up in a cozy red throw at her favorite spot at the Burrow: a cushioned bench adjacent to a huge bay window that overlooked the garden. She'd spent hours here reading as a teenager, and something about it had always made her feel calm and at home.

Charlie dropped down next to her, throwing her extended legs over his lap. She glanced around to see who might've witnessed such a casual display of affection, but luckily, it was that time of the party in which everyone seemed to be moving toward the general area of the floo.

"You look tired, love," he said, his voice husky from talking all evening.

"Not exactly what a girl likes to hear, Charlie," Hermione said, stifling a yawn.

"Well, you're still lovely. As usual." His eyes lowered to where her wrap dress had opened slightly, revealing a sliver of her thigh. "Just a bit sleepy, yeah?"

She pulled the fabric shut and said in a whisper, "I was shagged senseless not two hours ago. Of course I'm spent."

His eyes twinkled. "Ginny says you're overworked."

Hermione sighed and leaned her head back. "Yeah. That's a bit of an understatement at this point."

"Working on any big projects?"

"Pick a card, any card," Hermione said with a smile. Charlie gave a quizzical look and Hermione realized he'd probably never seen a card trick before in his life. "I mean," she said. "Yeah, dozens of them, it seems."

"Tell me about one."

She blinked. "Why? My work is infinitely boring, especially compared to what you do."

He ran his fingers up and down her calf absentmindedly. "Let's just say I like the sound of your voice."

Hermione smiled. "Well, when you put it that way." She paused. "The name of the department."

"The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

"That's the one." Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, I was really looking at it when I was first promoted. Each word, like it were a poem or something. And I realized how ethno and wizard-centric it is. Who are we to assign ourselves lords of all magical creatures? Many of them are just as sentient as we are. And in the case of certain species, satyrs and centaurs, for instance, their cognitive abilities potentially outweigh ours, by light years, really. Especially if you really look at the cultural, architectural and magical accomplishments of the veela." Hermione straightened her back.

"Moreover, the idea is that we weigh the value of each species according to how much they measure up to our arbitrary beliefs of what's _normal._ And if they don't measure up, we value what we can get out of them. That's how it's been historically, anyhow."

She stopped as she realized how intently he looked at her, as though he'd never heard anything more fascinating in his entire life. "Anyway," she added. "I thought if we changed the name, perhaps it'd help traditional wizarding ideas on co-existence evolve."

"What name were you thinking of?"

"Actually, I was inspired by Hagrid's course at Hogwarts a bit. The Care and Census of the Magical Population. It'd include all manners of creatures, including wizards and witches."

"Doesn't that last bit, though, fall under the Administrative Registration Department?"

"Yes. My proposal, if approved, would merge the two departments."

Charlie let out a whistle. "When do you present the proposal? Or however that goes."

"I'll put a motion out at our next head meeting. Then everyone will vote on it. In about a month and a half."

"You nervous?"

Hermione smiled. "I don't have very high expectations. Two-thirds of my colleagues see me as an annoying, know-it-all kid. They think I just got my job because of my efforts in the War."

Charlie snorted. "Anyone who's ever met you knows you've got the brains to be running the bloody Ministry."

Hermione laughed. "That's a very kind endorsement, Charlie."

"It's the truth."

"Hey, kids." Arthur stumbled toward them, already dressed in flannel pyjamas. "Just here to let you know that your mother and I are off to bed."

"Alright," Charlie said, stretching his arms out. "Surprised Mum's not here to lecture me about disappearing before breakfast."

"Well, she's still… unhappy, we'll call it, about the, ah, American firewhisky. I was actually all warm and cozy in bed, but she sent me down as punishment, I presume. And yes, she wants you to know breakfast will be served at eight sharp, and if you skip this one, she'll have two inches off your hair."

Charlie frowned. "Well, I'll be there, then."

"Fantastic. Good night, Hermione. Thanks again for the muggle time counter."

"You can just call it a watch if you like, Arthur. And you're welcome. And happy birthday."

Arthur smiled and waved as he left.

"You're spending the night?" Hermione asked, turning to Charlie.

"Yeah. It's gotten a bit late for international travel." His fingers that were previously grazing her calf immediately made their way up her dress, to about mid-thigh.

"Stop that!" Hermione said, smacking his arm. "That tickles." He winked and lowered his hand back to her shin.

Hermione lifted her legs off him to the floor and stood. "I think I better be off, too. Work early and all."

"I'll walk to you the floo."

He held his hand on the small of her back until they reached the fireplace. "So, Miss Granger. When might I see you again?"

Hermione pulled out her smartphone and clicked on the calendar icon. "Let's see. Two weekends from yesterday, it looks like there is a celebration of George and Ron's business accomplishment of exceeding their yearly goal by 60%."

Charlie shook his head. "Can't make that one. I'll be working like mad all next month, to make up for my injury."

"Okay." Hermione scrolled to the following month. "There, the sixth, Fleur's birthday."

He glanced at her phone. "I think that one works. Yeah. I'll make it work."

"Another bloody birthday," Hermione said, chuckling under her breath as she added a star icon to the sixth's square.

"Come again?"

"Nothing." She turned to him. "Have a good night, Charlie. A good month, really," she said, gesturing to her calendar.

He waited until she dropped it back in her purse before bending her backwards in an old-style Hollywood kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth, shocked at how ready she was for him once again, despite having had him just a few hours prior.

He lifted her straight again, then said, "Good night, Hermione." He grinned as she walked through the floo with a wave, half-wanting to fling herself back and jump his bones.

"Work tomorrow," she reminded herself as she stepped into her flat. "Stupid, stupid work."


	5. Chapter 5

_Note: Another short one, but I think the appearance of a certain Slytherin makes up for it._

Chapter Five

Hermione squeezed herself into the Ministry lift, hit the button for her department, and immediately shuffled the notes in her arms. She'd intended to spend the weekend brainstorming on a new peace treaty with the centaurs, who'd rejected the last one based on the fact that it wasn't "pleasing enough," after which, they warned her to not return until she had something "acceptable." Translation: they wanted to continue their witch-abducting custom, and Hermione had to figure out a scenario in which the Ministry would ever allow it.

But the weekend had brought some particularly _pleasing_ and _acceptable_ distractions, and now she had little more ideas on the treaty terms than what she'd started with. Hermione highlighted some of her scribbles as witches and wizards left the lift, until she was certain she was alone. Then she leaned against the wall and let out a long, constrained sigh.

"Now, _that_ sort of frustration is reserved for midweek, Granger." She could practically hear the smirk form behind her. "Not first thing on a Monday."

Hermione closed her eyes. "Good morning to you, too, Malfoy."

"Heard about your upcoming proposal."

Hermione wasn't surprised. He tended to know numerous things that weren't any of his business. She turned and reminded herself to aim for the general direction of cordiality. "Well, that's nice, I suppose."

He shook his head . "It's never going to happen, you know. You oughtn't be wasting your time and skills."

"No offense, Malfoy, but I do not give a bleeding wrackspurt regarding your opinions on my work."

He laughed and took a sip of his coffee. "Such _language_ , Granger."

She glared. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

He held up his dragonhide briefcase. "Paperwork. For the Apothecary. Speaking of which," he took a step towards her and leaned, not six inches away from her neck, and inhaled.

Hermione's face paled. She'd positively globbed on 'Bed of Roses,' hoping the scent would remind her of Charlie and help her get through the day. The lift opened and she made for the exit, but Malfoy had pressed the 'pass' button before she could take a step forward and they were off again. "That was my stop," she hissed. It wasn't, but she was willing to change lifts anywhere if it would mean an end to this conversation.

"The question is," Malfoy said, completely ignoring her, " _who_ might you wear such a concoction for?"

"That's none of your bloody business, Malfoy."

"Ah, so there is someone, then, yes? And I take it from your defensiveness, that he, like your proposal, is a hopeless cause."

Hermione scowled at his nerve, but suddenly remembered how Charlie had slid her body towards his mouth the night before. Well, if Malfoy could behave inappropriately, then so could she.

She regarded Malfoy with a smirk and tossed her hair. "On the contrary," she said. "The man in question practically forced me to ride his face just last evening."

Malfoy had been taking a long sip of coffee but he lowered his cup fast with widened eyes, not even noticing as a few drops sloshed onto his briefcase.

"It was brilliant," Hermione added casually. "I came over a dozen times. I should be thanking you, really." She stepped out of the opening doors, turned and said. "But I won't. Good day, Malfoy." The doors shut over his still-gaping mouth.

Hermione burst into giggles and practically skipped down the hall. She'd finally figured out how to shut up _Draco Malfoy_! Of course, it came down to lowering her dignity quite a lot, but it was worth it all the same.

She wondered if Malfoy had ever let a woman do what Charlie had, indeed, practically forced upon her and, aside from wrinkling her nose at the visual, came to the conclusion that Malfoy would find such an act beneath him. Still, she thought. Everyone had their kinks. And some were probably quite unexpected.

"Kinks," Hermione said aloud.

A wizard walking past her stopped. "Come again, Miss?"

"Kinks!" she repeated to the stranger. "That's it!" Then, though subtly, she actually did skip into her office.

XXX

"So, Hermione, let's see if I have this right. You're suggesting that we open up a registry of sorts. For witches to—"

"Experience an erotic getaway with a colony of centaurs," Hermione finished. Kingsley had pulled a chair for her, but she was much too excited to sit down. "We'll make it sound like a holiday. But also keep it clear that there will, indeed, be intercourse. We'll write up consent and liability forms. Get the centaurs to agree only pleasure and not pain may be had by the witches. And—"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well, how can we know that there are interested witches? It's somewhat of a, _ahem_ , taboo activity."

"Everyone has their kinks, Kingsley. If you'd like, I can set up a discreet, anonymous poll for an informal number count, if you're concerned."

"Please do. And get back to me."

Hermione crafted an ad for _Magical Mingles_ , a type of classifieds for those looking for companionship of the more carnal sort. She paid extra for the text to be published immediately, and by the end of the day, she'd had nearly three hundred responses and the awkward-yet-bemused approval of Kingsley.


	6. Chapter 6

On exactly the first, the centaurs agreed to the terms of the treaty. Hermione promptly delegated all the paperwork to her subordinates, then, with Kingsley's urging, took that Friday off. Hermione was beside herself with the tingling feeling of accomplishment. This was her first project that hadn't been sabotaged by archaic wizarding laws, nor had it been put off indefinitely by her hateful colleagues. Ginny decided they'd take the whole day to celebrate, so with the boys at the Burrow, Hermione found herself under the professional hands of masseuse Brendan, lying alongside Ginny, who groaned as Celestio worked her shoulders.

"Are there any areas that need extra care, Miss Granger?" Brendan's voice was so calming, like an ocean breeze.

"My neck, please," Hermione said. "And my arms. And hands, especially my wanding hand. Oh, and my lower back."

"She's been worked to the bone, Brendan," Ginny said as Celestio drummed along the backs of her calves. "Just give her a good rub down _everywhere._ Merlin knows she needs it."

"Ginevra," Hermione hissed.

Brendan laughed. "Point taken, Miss Weasley." Hermione opened her mouth to something snarky about Ginny's love life, but couldn't think of anything fast enough. A wisp blew out of the 'Ahh-romatherapy Mister,' which Celestio had explained contained a very light potion that induced extreme relaxation. Hermione felt everything un-tense slowly, and she set her head back down and happily let Brendan do his job.

XXX

"Alright," Ginny said, pulling open the pamphlet for Le Serpent Rouge. "We've done the Ahh-romatherapy massage, the mandrake body wrap, the hot chocolate facial." She turned the paper over. "You know, I'm ready to be finished with all this rejuvenation shite and move on to the Beautifying Department."

Hermione sipped her complimentary pumpkin juice, certain it had been spiked with some draught or another. "Sounds good to me."

She and Ginny then were at the whims of Cynthusa and Serene, two witches trained to know every beauty charm imaginable, for the better part of two hours. When they were finished, Hermione had honey highlights, deeply-conditioned curls, a light bronzer, and, at Ginny's encouragement, nearly all her body hair hexed off (despite the fact that Hermione had insisted there was no one to appreciate it). Ginny'd walked away with much the same, except her hair sported burnt umber lowlights that Cynthusa'd promised would make red clothing much more compatible with her complexion.

"What now?" Ginny asked as they left, each holding a gift bag from the spa. "Shopping?"

Hermione relented to one store, and where she was promptly swept away by an emerald maxi dress. "Oh, Gods that looks fabulous with your highlights," Ginny said, stepping out of the dressing room in a crimson, sweetheart-necklined number.

"That," Hermione said, gesturing to Ginny, "is unbelievably flattering."

Ginny turned to the side in the mirror. "Good Godric. I had my doubts, but Cynthusa was right. I ought to owl her another hefty tip."

"Harry's eyes are going to pop right out when he sees you in that."

"Let's wear these to Fleur's birthday tomorrow," Ginny said, grabbing her by the hand. "Please. I never get to dress up for parties at the Burrow, and I'll feel utterly daft doing it alone."

"Fleur's probably going to all dolled up."

"You know what I mean! Us mere mortals."

"Uh, sure." Hermione twirled and laughed. "Yeah, I'll wear this."

"Besides, Charlie's favorite color is green," Ginny said pointedly and walked back into her dressing room. Hermione shut her dropped mouth and decided to ignore that little slight.

"Are you ready for dinner, Gin?" she said as she changed.

"Definitely. Then call it a day. I miss my little men."

XXX

"What illicit substances have you smuggled in this time?" Hermione asked Harry as he and Ginny finally fell in through the floo.

"Say what?" Ginny asked, her cheeks pink.

"Well, Molly said you'd left the boys here but had forgotten something important? I assumed you went back for a bottle to liven things up."

"Well, no, actually," Ginny said.

Harry looked at the floor. "We, uh, forgot the present."

"But neither of you even have a present—" Hermione stared at them for a few seconds then burst into laughter. "You mean you dropped off the boys at the party early so you could go have a shag?"

"Hermione! You said so yourself that Harry's eyes would right pop out when he saw me in this." Ginny gestured to her dress. "Well, turns, out, his eyes weren't the only things to—"

"La, la, la," Hermione sang loudly, putting her fingers in her ears. "I'm not listening."

Ginny laughed as Harry turned various shades of crimson to match the dress. "You're certainly not innocent, woman. Stop acting so prudish. Speaking of which, is Charlie here yet?"

This time, it was Hermione's turn to pinken. "I don't know what you're insinuating, Mrs. Potter, but I suggest you stop that immediately. He and I are _friends_. And, no, it appears as though Charlie is running late."

In fact, Charlie had sent an owl to the Burrow ahead of him for Hermione, specifically, to let her know that he'd be there after about an hour or so. This gave Molly pause, but then she came to the conclusion that he'd probably need one-on-one time with his new best friend-slash-therapist and told Hermione that she and Charlie could talk anywhere they liked once he arrived. Hermione had no idea what words he used to describe the terms of her emotional support, but she reckoned it was enough to guarantee alone time with Charlie for the rest of the year without raising suspicion from the matriarch.

Ginny, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Hermione eyed the redhead as the boys raced to hug their mummy's legs. Harry interrupted Hermione's thoughts with an arm around her shoulders. "Actually," he said in a low voice. "I did bring a bottle of bubbleberry wine."

"Harry James Potter, you know what that beverage did to me the last time—"

"Aw, come on. I like Drunk Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. But just a sip for me, Harry."

Harry went to the kitchen and discreetly poured glasses for her, Gin, Fleur, Bill, George and Percy. It certainly did liven things up, as by the time Charlie arrived, all intoxicated adults were trading stories and laughing their arses off in the living room. Molly was delighted at everyone's good mood, which also meant she remained ignorant to the cause of such cheer.

"Hey, Charlie," Bill shouted, and they greeted one another with a handshake. Charlie kissed Fleur on her cheeks before handing her a wrapped gift, then gave everyone else an awkward wave on his way to Hermione.

He put a hand on her shoulders. "I hope it's alright that I borrow Hermione for a few minutes. We'll be right back."

Before anyone could respond, Charlie apparated them to a darkened room which smelled of cedar and pine. "Charlie!" Hermione yelled, looking around. "What on earth—"

He stopped her sentence with a long kiss. Hermione could find no urge to continue her scolds, and so she wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth to his tongue. Charlie lifted her up and placed her on a smooth table without breaking the kiss. She let her hands wander under his shirt, over his abs and hips, and he'd fitted his hand in the neck of her dress, teasing her nipple.

He slithered his other hand up her dress and maneuvered it into her knickers. He slid a finger inside her and groaned. "You're so fucking wet."

Hermione gasped as he curled the finger against a very sensitive spot. "What are you going to do about it?"

He took a half step back and unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. By the time he'd positioned his length on her, she'd wriggled her knickers down her legs and onto the floor. He sank into her and she cried out.

Charlie pumped into her so hard that the table edged away with every thrust. Hermione bit his neck to keep from screaming and he growled into her ear. She felt the warmth of an orgasm just begin when he muttered, "I'm not going to last very long, love."

Hermione laughed, delirious enough just being in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist as tight as she could and said, "I don't care, Charlie."

He thrust for a few more minutes, then came with a deep moan that Hermione mentally shelved away for masturbation fodder at a later date.

He held her for another minute, catching his breath. Then he said, "You didn't come, did you?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's not a big deal."

He scoffed, then pulled back to look at her with raised eyebrows. "I don't like to leave a lady dissatisfied."

Hermione chuckled and said, "You made me come so much last time, I thought I was going to pass out. Why not call it even?"

He shook his head and lowered his body. "I don't think so." Then he pulled her, once again, to his mouth.

Six minutes later, and she arched her back and pulled his hair while whispering, "Oh, _fuck_ , Charlie."

She was surprised to feel the head of his cock on her cunt when he pushed up. "Again?" she asked. "So soon?"

He gave her a half-smile and said, "Something about your saying my name does it for me."

"Really," she said, pulling his hips to hers hard.

"Really," he choked out, eyes rolling back.

This time, he took his time with her, trying slightly different angles until he found one that made her practically speak in tongues. As she came once again, she put her mouth to his ear and moaned his name, which caused him to release immediately thereafter. A couple minutes later, as he dressed himself, she leaned back onto the table and let out a very sated sigh. "I don't think I can even think about moving."

"So don't," he said, kissing her inner leg. She closed her eyes and felt his lips press against her right thigh, then the outside of her calf. When he made it to her left inner ankle, she realized, with a sudden warmth in her chest, that he was kissing each freckle and birthmark. It seemed like such an intensely intimate act, something so loving and reverent that she wondered briefly if this was more than just sex for him. Then she shooed the thought away. The man lived in _Romania_ for Godric's sake, she reminded herself.

"Where are we, anyway?" she glanced around.

"The gardening shed," Charlie laughed. "I haven't any idea why I brought you here. Was planning on taking you to one of the guest rooms, but my mind sort of stopped working when I saw you in _that_." He waved a hand over her dress, and then dropped his head to kiss a pale spot on her knee.

Hermione smiled. "Well, I guess it's less suspicious here, anyhow."

Charlie frowned slightly as Hermione edged down. "Where are my knickers?" she asked.

"Oh, here." He pulled them out of an empty plant pot.

She cast unusually strong cleansing spells before pulling them on, then said, "I suppose we should be heading back, yeah? But let's just walk, okay?" After a romp like that, she wasn't certain apparition was in her immediate best interests.

"Sure." He held out an arm and they made their way to the house.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

As soon as they returned to the party, Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm. "I need your help with Fleur's present," she said as they walked into one of the ground-level playrooms.

Ginny shut and locked the door, then cast a silencing spell. Then she turned to Hermione and said, with hands on her hips, "Hermione Granger! When on earth were you going to tell me that you're shagging Charlie?"

Hermione swallowed. "Oh, gods. How did you find out?"

"Aha!" Ginny threw her arms in the air. "Ginevra, once again, is bloody right. Harry AND George owe me fifty galleons a piece."

"What?" Hermione gasped. "You have a _bet_ going? With Harry and George? And moreover, you just tricked me into admitting…" she trailed off, eyes accusatory.

"Good gods, Hermione, I knew. I've been trying to get you to tell me for a week now, if you haven't noticed! I just needed confirmation is all."

Hermione collapsed into an oversized bean bag and put her head in her hands. "I wasn't exactly happy about keeping it a secret, you know," she said. "I didn't see how I could blather to you about how fantastic your brother is in the sack."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, you're right, I didn't need to know that in any capacity. But," she sat down in a toddler chair. "I do want some details. Like, are you dating? Is he courting you?"

"He lives in Romania," Hermione said. "Not exactly conducive to long-term commitments."

"I know, I know. I'm only wondering because, well. Charlie's never been one for bringing girls home to shag."

"It's not like he brought me home, though. I was just there, and he was there, and then I was on top—"

"Ah! Okay, that's enough of that." Ginny said. "So, it's just sex, then."

"Yeah, I suppose," Hermione said, thinking of how he'd just sought every freckle on her legs and feet to kiss.

"Well, I'm not going to high-five you for fucking my brother or anything, but damn woman, it's about time, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, leaning back against the bean bag. "That's true enough." She put her hands on her head once more. "Bloody hell, Harry _and_ George know?"

"Well, it's not like you two are being careful in anyway whatsoever. The way he just whisked you off! I had to do some damage control on how you were helping him work through his _emotions_ , which Mum came and reaffirmed. But then later, I took Harry away and as we were discussing the terms of the bet, we noticed an Extendable Ear _right there_ , and then George wanted in—"

"So they _don't_ think I'm shagging him."

"Well, they know there's a chance. But George doesn't think Charlie'd be that bloody stupid—"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you are his brother's ex, general good friend of the family's, so much so that you _are_ family. And Charlie's always been one to avoid drama of any sort. That's all. And Harry, well, he doesn't think you'd ever do that to Ron."

" _What?_ But Ron was the one who broke up with _me_! And that was over _three years ago_ and he's very happy with Aurora now and—"

"I know, Hermione, I know. And Harry knows that too, alright? Calm down, sister. Harry just thinks your guilt—your _unnecessary_ guilt—would prevent you from sexcapading with Charlie. Which he's obviously wrong about. Which means I'm now one-hundred galleons richer." Ginny grinned. "And don't worry. They know if they tell _anyone_ , I'll hang their bollocks over the fireplace."

Hermione looked up. "And Molly?"

"Oh, Mum's in such denial about it that the only way she'd even suspect it is if she walked in on you two. Even then, she may try to convince herself otherwise. 'Hermione's got such unusual, such _physical_ methods to help Charlie's grief, but bless that wonderful woman's heart'." Ginny pantomimed her mother so perfectly that Hermione had to laugh.

Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Back to the party, then?"

"Sure."

Hermione settled into the rhythm of a Weasley birthday shindig. After a bit, she left for the kitchen to serve herself seconds from the cheese platter Fleur had brought, where she ran into George, who had much the same idea.

"Why, hello, Granger. Fancy seeing you here." He waggled his eyebrows.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Hi again, George."

He leaned back on the counter and popped a sliver of maroilles into his mouth. "You know, it's taken me long enough, but after a fascinating conversation with Ginny, it appears as though I've figured out your fetish."

Hermione dalloped some fig jam next to her wedge of brie. "I hope you're referring to my unhealthy obsession with muggle sci-fi films."

"Not at all." He lowered his voice. "You're amorously attracted to Weasley men."

Hermione huffed. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, not _all_ , of course, but those of this generation. Bill, _Charlie_ , Percy, Ron, and, of course," he ran his fingers through his hair with a flourish, "me."

"No offense, George, but I'd rather eat Every Flavor Beans for the rest of my life."

Angelina walked in and took George's munster chunk right out of his hand and ate a bite. "What are you taunting Hermione about?"

"Oh, darling," he put an arm around her. "Was just going to proposition her that if our marriage dropped the broom, I'd be more than willing to satisfy her desires of the flesh."

Hermione choked on her muster wedge while Angelina laughed. "Is that right? Well, if our marriage drops the broom, I get dibs on Charlie, assuming he and Hermione aren't hitched by then."

Hermione's coughs got so loud that Angelina grabbed a glass of water and handed it to her.

George put a hand to his heart. "Now, that hurts, love. What's everyone gone mental over Charlie for? What's he got that I don't?"

Angelina scoffed. "You mean besides three stone of pure muscle?"

"Hey, now. That one was below the belt."

"You couldn't even open a jar of pickles for me yesterday without magic."

"Yeah, well. Who eats _pickles_ straight from the jar, anyway?"

"Hey, I can't help my new cravings anymore than—" Angelina paused, realizing she'd forgotten Hermione was in the room.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, her voice strained from all the coughing. "You aren't. Are you?"

George and Angelina just looked at each other and grinned. "We were trying to wait 'til the second trimester to announce it."

"Oh my gods, this is the best news ever!" Hermione bounced into their arms, giving them a long group hug. "How far along are you?"

"Ten weeks."

"What's the best news ever?" Ginny asked as she walked into the kitchen.

George and Angelina looked at each other and shrugged. He put a hand on her belly and said, "Angelina's got a bun in the oven."

"NO. FUCKING. WAY!" Ginny's screams rivaled the volume of her mother's, and soon, everyone made their way to the kitchen to shriek (and, in Molly's case, burst into tears) and congratulate the couple. Eventually, the excitement died down, and Hermione felt something pull at her leg as she listened to Harry complain about newly implemented protocols for Auror report-writing.

She looked down at James. "Why, hello, sweet pea. What have we got here?" She pulled up the book he held out to her. " _Domedorus and Dradle the Dragon_."

"Mummy said you'd read it to me, 'Mione. She said it was Uncle Charlie's favorite when he was little like me." James wiped his nose on the skirt of her dress.

"Is that right," Hermione said slowly, spotting a smirking Ginny from across the room. _Good one_ , Hermione mouthed. "Well, come along then. Let's find someplace cozy to read."

A few minutes later, Hermione was settled into the love seat with her lap overflowing with the children, as Victoir decided she, too, needed to hear the adventures of Domedorus and Dradle, and with Albus at the age of copying his brother and cousin every chance he got.

In the middle of the tale, she glanced up and instantly locked eyes with Charlie. She nearly blushed, not realizing he was watching her so intently with a look on his face she could barely read. As Molly neared him to whisper something in his ear, Hermione gave a quick smile and returned to reading, not wanting to be caught staring.

Before the story ended, Charlie approached. "Looks like I'm off, kids."

"Bye-bye, Cha," Albus said immediately, not taking his eyes off the book.

"Bye, Uncle Charlie," James and and Victoir said in unison.

Charlie squatted and gave them each a kiss on the head, then turned to Hermione and said, "George and Lina's 'bun in the oven' party. Two weeks."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'll be there. Certainly."

He smiled and kissed her forehead before disappearing into the floo.


	8. Chapter 8

_Note: Thank you all for the lovely follows, messages and reviews. I probably would've abandoned this ages ago if it weren't for such kindnesses. Unfortunately, my posting schedule is going to slow down some after this chapter. I'm aiming for once a week, but I imagine I may be able to do twice a week given that I know exactly where this is going and how it ends. It's just a matter of finding time to type it up. Also: super lemony chapter ahead!_

Chapter Eight

Hermione was organizing all parts of "The Centaur Holiday" treaty when the Message Quill on her desk gave a little song.

"How can I help, Clarisa?" Hermione said.

The quill wrote as her assistant's voice projected through, leaving temporary words adrift in the air. "Miss Granger, you have a visitor. The gentleman claims the name of Domedorus Dradle. He states that he has urgent dragon legislation for you to consider." Clarisa lowered her voice to a whisper. "And, may I add, he has a very _intriguing_ physique."

Hermione grinned. "Send him in, would you?"

As the door opened and Charlie entered, Hermione glanced up at him, trying to behave as aloof as possible. "Mr. Dradle, please, have a seat."

Charlie sauntered to the chair, grinning goofily has he sat down.

Hermione took in his appearance: pressed trousers, a gorgeous pin-striped button down dress shirt, black over-robes slung over his shoulder. He face was smooth and his hair was combed, which shocked her—she'd never known him to have anything but wild, loose waves of varying lengths as long as she'd known him.

She cleared her throat. "My assistant informs me you have some dragon legislation for me to—oh hell. I can't do this. Charlie! Hi! What on earth are you doing here?"

Hermione was puzzled to see him frown, but then he hid it with a grin. "Had some business to do in town and thought I'd drop by."

"Really, you were just in London? For business? From Roma—wait, are those flowers?"

He'd shuffled something under the robes and Hermione had caught a glimpse of indigo petals. His ears were brick red as he sputtered, "Well, um, sort of, yes, flowers, yes." He thrust the bouquet at her and she gasped.

"These are gorgeous, Charlie." She took them from his hands: a collection of deep purple and blue-lipped wild irises with long stalks of pink fireweed between.

"They grow wild in Romania," he said. "I saw them outside my home and thought of you. I kept them fresh with a spell or two but they're going to need water soon, I think."

"Well, gods, thank you, Charlie. They're beautiful." She stood and reached for a vase at her windowsill, tapped it with her wand and it filled with water. Carefully placing the flowers in, she said, "I'll rearrange them in a bit, but they should be good for now."

She turned and to face him once more. "So what are the names of these wildflowers? I recognize fireweed but the other—" She trailed off as his eyes slowly reached all the way down to her kitten heels. "No." She shook her head. "No bloody way, Charlie, you and your filthy mind."

Not ten minutes later, she fell onto her desk, bare chest pressed against all of the paperwork she'd just been ordering. He'd pushed her pencil skirt up and pulled her knickers down while spreading her legs. Hermione waited for his length to press her, but jumped when she felt his tongue instead.

"Bloody, fucking Merlin," she groaned as he licked her clit roughly. It felt as though he wrapped his entire mouth around her, his hands on her thighs as he pulled her deeper in short thrusts. It didn't take her long at all, with an orgasm so strong she swore she could feel the pleasure all the way to her ankles. She was thankful she had the desk to hold her up.

He then sank into her with a groan that gave her goose bumps. He varied his speed and depth, eventually falling into a moderate rhythm as he used her hips to pull in with every push. Hermione could feel the tingles of her previous orgasm linger, but was thankful a new one didn't build up, as she wasn't sure if she could handle it. He finally came silently, wrapping his arms around her as he shuddered.

XXX

"Why do you like going down on me so much?"

She'd transfigured her office chair into a wide, soft chaise longue facing the window. She reclined on Charlie's chest and he held an arm around her, his hand so large that it rested on both her hip and belly.

"Going down?" Charlie asked lazily. "Do you mean eat your pussy?"

Hermione scoffed. "Are you always so _vulgar_?"

"It's just accurate. 'Going down' sounds like you're asking me on a stroll in the woods."

Hermione laughed. "Fine. Why do you like to _eat my pussy_ so much?"

"Mmm," Charlie said, his hand moving to her breast. "I like it when you say that."

She pushed his hand back down. "Stop trying to distract me."

He let his fingers linger over the wire of her bra through her top. "Isn't it obvious? I like making you come. I like the way you taste. I, in general, like putting my mouth all over your pretty cunt."

Hermione inhaled quickly. Hearing him say such things threatened to make her wet again. "Not a lot of blokes like the taste," she said.

"It's intoxicating. It reminds me of dragons' breath."

She turned abruptly. "It reminds you of _what_?"

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "Wait a minute. Let me explain before you hex me."

"You _better_ explain yourself, Charles Fabian Weasley!"

He kept laughing for a few seconds more. "Well, you've been near dragons, yeah? You know when they huff a bit before they spray fire, that bit of smoke that comes out just before?"

"Well, I guess so. The last time I was close enough to a dragon to smell its breath, I was a little too busy to analyze its notes."

Charlie laughed again. Hermione loved how his whole body shook every time. "Well, allow me, then. You'd think, at first glance, that it wouldn't smell nice."

"Go on."

"I thought it might smell like smoke from a bonfire or something similar. But it's not. It smells cool and blue. Like the ocean. Salty and sweet. That's how you taste."

Hermione leaned back on him and laughed. "Ginny was right," she said. "In an alternate universe, you'd shag _all_ your dragons."

"Maybe not all," Charlie chuckled. "I prefer monogamy, myself." He nipped at her ear. "Perhaps you should let me have another taste." His hand was back on her breast.

"What? You want to—" she made her voice husky—" _eat my pussy_ again?" She smiled as she felt him harden beneath her thigh. "Put your tongue on my _cunt_?"

"Yes," he said simply, his hand now under her blouse.

"Well, I think I'd rather taste you."

He stopped pinching her nipple. "Is that so?"

She responded by turning over and unbuckling his belt. She pulled out his length, running her fingers over it very gently at first. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "You have freckles here."

His cock twitched in her palm as he chuckled. "There are very few places on me unpopulated by freckles."

"Suppose I licked each one of these?" Hermione said. Before he could respond, she swirled her tongue over three at once. His breaths turned into deep gasps.

She sucked his cock every way she knew how, wanting to know exactly what made him curse, what made him hiss in air and squirm. She finally released him with a pop, then dragged her tongue along his sack. His hips jerked as he groaned. She chuckled. "There are freckles, there, too, you know."

"Get me off with your hands," he said, his voice strained and gruff.

She found that if she fisted his length with both hands, then turned one each way 'round, back and forth, increasing pressure, his hips literally bucked in the air and he yelled louder than she'd ever heard him. She continued this motion until he exploded, drenching her chest and belly.

"Oh, gods, Hermione," he said. "Where on earth did you learn _that_?"

Hermione laughed and grabbed her wand. "Just something I picked up along the way." He watched as she performed the necessary cleansing spells on her clothing. She glanced at her smart phone. "Oh, my lunch is almost over. God, I'm starved now, all thanks to you and your freckles."

"I can take you out," Charlie said quickly, buttoning his trousers. "There's a French restaurant just 'round the corner. Le Cinq, it's called. Does lunch all the way 'til 2:30."

Hermione groaned. "I wish, Charlie, but I'm going to have to take a rain check. Not that I haven't thoroughly enjoyed your, ah, company, but I'm rather behind. I'll just have my assistant grab some take away."

He smiled, but she could tell he was disappointed. "It's fine, love." He stood. "You've got that proposal next week, haven't you?"

"Yes! The day before George and Angelina's celebration, in fact."

"Well." He leaned over and gave her a long, sweet kiss. "Good luck."

"Hey Charlie," she said as he walked to the door. "What business did you have in town, anyway?"

"Well, you see." He grinned sheepishly, his ears tinged pink. "I had to bring some flowers to a pretty lady." He waved, then walked out the door, shutting it gently over a shocked Hermione.

XXX

At lunch a few days later, Hermione watched as Harry take a breath as if to say something, then decide to stuff his mouth with a large bite of ham instead. After swallowing, he turned to her, lips parted in the beginning of a word, and he shoved a piece of bread in instead. She frowned. "Harry James Potter! Just spill it, would you?"

His eyes widened—clearly he'd thought he was being subtle—and he swallowed. "Saw Charlie here a few days ago."

"Yes? What of it?"

"He said he was here to surprise you and take you to lunch."

"Really." Hermione furrowed her brow.

"I just thought you weren't really dating, is all."

"We're not. I mean, he didn't even mention lunch, not until after we…" she trailed off. "Discussed dragon legislation. And by then, it was really too late."

Harry smirked. "I thought Charlie was a dragon tamer, not a lobbyist." She decided to take a bite of tomato soup instead of responding. He went on, "I just think if you were to start dating him, perhaps it would be nice to let Ron know."

Hermione frowned. "And why is that?"

"I know you've both moved on. Things are finally friendly, or at least mostly friendly, again. But you don't think Ron would be a bit gutted to find out you were dating his brother through hearsay?"

Hermione sighed. "Charlie lives in Romania, Harry. We're just _discussing dragon legislation_. That's it."

"But he traveled all the way from Romania, Hermione, to take you to lunch—"

"Which didn't even happen because he was too busy discussing drag— Harry, don't psychoanalyze this thing. It's, I'm going to bloody say it because we're adults, it's sex, nothing more. And I'm not going to owl Ron to alert him to the fact that I just shagged Charlie over my work desk."

Harry coughed. "Well, alright, then. I was merely suggesting that if it turned into something—"

"It won't, Harry. He's going to meet some witch in Romania and then he and I will fizzle just as quickly as we started."

"What makes you so sure?"

Hermione took the opportunity to take a giant bite of her sandwich. The fact was, she was the teensiest bit unsure of Charlie's intentions. But there were more facts on the side of it just being a casual fling: they'd only shagged in secret under pretenses, even if those pretenses were flimsy at best. Sure, he'd gone out of his way to stop by her work and supposedly had planned on taking her to lunch, but fucked her instead. Seemed to her that if he wanted more, he'd just go on and bloody say it. She told Harry as much.

"I don't think Charlie's ever had a proper relationship," Harry said. "At least, not from what I've heard."

"Well, that's even worse, Harry. If he's never had a proper relationship with a woman who lives in the same country, how's he going to manage one with me?"

Harry finally conceded. He didn't say it, but she knew he was seeing sense now. "So can we please change the subject?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Well, I think Ginny wants another baby."

"Really? Oh, Harry, that would be amazing."

"I know it, Hermione, but I'm a bit terrified of having another boy."

Hermione responded with laughter and the rest of their lunch went much more pleasantly than how it'd started.


	9. Chapter 9

_Note: If you need clarification on where this fic is going, read the note after the chapter, which will contain spoilers._

Chapter Nine

Hermione forced her hands to remain at the podium and not incessantly wringing her hair. She'd just delivered her proposal and put out the motion for The Care and Census of the Magical Population. And, as she had predicted, it fell flat with just three too many votes against it.

What she hadn't predicted, however, was the ire of Madame Hemlay, head of Administrative Registration, who'd had the floor for ten minutes already, listing complaint after complaint of Hermione and her methods.

"—and now, now Miss Granger wants to merge departments, to force wizards and witches under the same heading as pygmy puffs and threstals. Forgive me for stating so, Mr. Minister, but I will state once more that Miss Granger is too young, too naïve, too inexperienced—"

Hermione bit her tongue. The last time she'd thrown her _experience_ of fighting in the frontline in the bloody War, she'd been accused of showing off. There was truly no way to win over Hemlay and the handful of heads that agreed with her.

"Granger?" Kingsley. "A response?"

Hermione took a breath. "The Ministry, as it's organized today, is no more different than when the Administrative Registration Department spent its days ostracizing the wizards and witches found in the department-created Muggleborn Registration."

"That is irrelevant," Madame Hemlay shouted, standing up. "It's irrelevant what we were _forced_ to do under the threats of—"

"Hemlay, please sit down. Granger has the floor." Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

"Certainly, Madame Hemlay has a point. Some of the Ministry's less palatable history could not be helped in order to save lives. Some of the changes, however, were wholly preventable at an early stage, when all the signs of the impending War were in place. The reason for most people letting those all of those warning signals slide was due to the denial and, at times, yes, the whole-hearted embrace of prejudice." She paused and cleared her throat. "What I am suggesting is a big change, yes. But I believe that it could ultimately change the way we start to see one another. I accept that today is not the day, however. I thank you all for your time." Hermione returned to her seat.

"If I may, Mr. Minister." Old, cranky Lentus Wells stood. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Wells had been trying to get her kicked off as Head for nearly six months now, so yeah. This ought to be good.

Kingsley nodded. Wells began, "Since Miss Granger has joined us here as Head two years ago, she has put forth fifty-five proposals, only three of which have been approved. It would appear, to me, that Madam Hemlay's assessment may be correct: either Miss Granger is naïve or she cares not for wasting our time and Ministry funds." He set his mouth in a long, firm line. "Years ago, one had to wait a year before even having permission to speak on the floor to learn what, exactly, makes our system so effective. I believe Miss Granger would benefit from a little waiting." He paused, glancing at Hermione with a smug. "All who agree that Granger should wait at least one year before putting forth non-essential proposals?"

Hermione looked around in horror as just over half of her colleagues chanted, "Yay."

She flung her body upright. "But that is _censorship_ , you can't just—"

"I'm merely suggesting that you have just a few more things to learn." Wells nodded at her, his face pursed in what Hermione could only assume what he thought looked like a kind expression. Beside him, Madame Hemway practically levitated with joy.

"Minister, if I may." Thomas Roland, Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation, stood. "The reason why many of Granger's ideas, many of which, might I add, are brilliant, are rarely passed is because the same handful of people vote against it. If it were me, and I'm certainly not suggesting such a thing, but especially after today, I might wonder if there were an active plan to keep Granger away from any little bit of power. The motivations of—"

Wells stood, interrupting. "You have _no proof_ of such a—"

"As I said," Roland responded. "It's no suggestion of mine."

"Point taken, Roland." Kingsley sighed. "This tradition of allowing, or forcing a Head, as it were, to wait for a year to propose, however childish it is to bring it up now," he gave Wells a long look, "is still active in the codebooks. Motion passed." He hit his podium and Hermione felt her stomach drop with the noise. "I have to say, I am extremely disappointed that not only was Miss Granger's motion so quickly dismissed, but that most of you have chosen to silence her. This meeting is adjourned. Hemsay, Roland and Wells, please stay for a word."

Hermione gathered her papers and took the long, less populated way into her office, nodding to her kinder colleagues as they whispered to her about how bloody stupid this was.

Clarisa stood as Hermione entered the foyer. "Miss Granger, goodness, do you look defeated. I take it that it didn't go?"

Hermione fought a fierce battle with hot tears, which she barely managed to win. "It was, quite possibly, the least successful proposal of my career."

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything you need? A cup of tea, perhaps?"

"Not at the moment, Clarisa, thank you."

She closed the door into her office and noticed Errol scarcely hanging on to the window ledge, the wind rustling his tattered feathers. "Oh!" She opened the window and Errol swooped in, collapsing at her desk. As Hermione untied the letter at his foot, she could hear the poor thing snoring.

Hermione opened the letter with her heart aflutter. If anything could make her feel better at this point, it might certainly be a message from Charlie. "Bugger," she muttered immediately, recognizing the handwriting as Molly's. She sat down and leaned back.

 _Dearest Hermione,_

 _How are you, dear? It seems like ages since we've been able to catch up! I hope your proposal has gone well today; Harry's told us all about it and it just seems like a brilliant idea, so becoming of you._

 _I was writing because Charlie stopped by for lunch of all things a few days ago, and he seemed so distracted and bothered that, after a bit of effort on my part, I finally got him to admit that he has girl troubles. What those troubles consist of, I don't know. He'd only tell me her name (I've never heard of the name before, Rama, do you know where she is from?) and that she works with him. I've owled him twice daily to find out more, but he hasn't responded to any of my letters yet._

 _I know you and he have been close the last couple of months, and I was wondering if you've heard anything more about Rama. I don't mean to pry; I just worry about poor Charlie. A mother always does._

 _Thank you so much, dear. I do hope you have a wonderful day._

 _All my love,_

 _Molly_

Hermione dropped the letter on her desk and closed her eyes to breath slowly _. In, one-two-three, out, one-two-three_ , until she could feel her body again. She turned to her filing cabinet and flung it open, reaching all the way in the back, pulling out a half-sized bottle of bubbleberry wine. Popping the cork with a wandless spell, she downed it in one gulp.

By then, Arrol had regained consciousness and sat upright on her desk, looking rather hungry. Hermione opened a drawer and threw a handful of mouse-flavored treats at the owl. She grabbed a pen and paper and continued to breathe fluidly as she wrote.

 _Dear Molly,_

 _Thank you so much for your words regarding my proposal. Not only did it_ _ **not**_ _pass, but the majority of my colleagues have decided to censor me from any "non-essential" proposals I may dream up for at least a full year. I'm a bit torn up about it, to be honest, as I've always known many of my colleagues were hateful tossers, I didn't realize that they, too, are cruel, pathetic pieces of shite._

 _I'm sorry to write that Charlie and I have never discussed anything regarding his romantic life. Our friendship has mainly consisted of talking, and at times, I have helped him stretch the hip that was recently injured. I hope you get the answers you seek soon._

 _I'm also sorry to write that I will not be attending this weekend's gathering, as I will be on holiday with a chap I've been seeing. His name is Brock Missouri and he's an American football player and a fantastic lover. Perhaps I will bring him to meet the family soon._

 _Please send my regards to George and Angelina._

 _With love,_

 _Hermione_

"Take that, you bloody, muscular arse," she slurred. "Let your mum tell you I'm shagging _Brock_ , whoever the hell he might be!" She tied the letter to the owl. "Go on," she said. Arrol cocked his head at her. "Don't look at me like that. I'm perfectly fine, can't you tell?" The owl seemed to give an owlish shrug, then spread its wings and flew out the window.

She tapped her Message Quill. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Clarisa, you know that holiday I've been putting off for ages?"

"Yes, Miss Granger."

"Well, I'm going to take two weeks, starting in about fifteen minutes."

"Of course, Miss Granger. You know, you have a full two months of accrued holiday time, if you need any more than that…"

Hermione was about to refuse, on the grounds of all the work she had, but as she looked around, she realized that Mr. Wells was right. Everything she contributed to the Ministry was pretty much worthless. If she did take as much as two months off, the department would literally function exactly the same.

"You know, Clarisa, I may take a bit more. I'll let you know soon."

"Of course, Miss Granger. I will clear your schedule immediately."

Hermione muttered to herself as she packed her bag. "Bloody work and bloody men. Especially bloody, stupid men."

Her Message Quill rang. "Miss Granger, you have a visitor."

"Clarisa, if it's Mr. Dradle, would you kindly tell him to piss off?"

"Oh, my. No, no it's not Mr. Dradle. In fact, a Mr. _Malfoy_ is in the waiting room."

"Oh." Hermione furrowed her brow. She wasn't in a mood to see that git, either. "Tell Mr. Malfoy that he needs to make an appointment. _Well_ after my holiday."

"Yes." Clarisa then whispered, "And may I add, Miss Granger, that Mr. Malfoy, too, has a _fascinating_ form."

"Thank you, Clarisa," Hermione said in a dull tone.

"Of course."

XXX

Hermione left all her paperwork and correspondence spread across her desk. For at least the next two weeks, she didn't want to even think of work. A tiny wave of excitement startled her as she realized, for the first time since graduation, she had more than ten hours of unscheduled time ahead of her. But then she remembered about _Rana_ , whose hair likely didn't resemble a dried sea urchin upon encountering humidity of any sort, and who, furthermore, was probably shagging Charlie right then atop a rumbling dragon. And Hermione's mood, once again, plummeted.

"Granger."

She nearly jumped out of her skin, then rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Malfoy? Because I've had a rather absurdly foul day and frankly, seeing you is doing it no favors."

He leaned against the wall, right over the button she needed to press to open the lift, wearing, in the manner typical to him, dress robes that were way too formal for the occasion of a Ministry visit. He regarded her with an unreadable expression, and said, "I heard about the proposal."

"If you're here to tell me 'I told you so,' then you can just sod off, Malfoy. Now, please move. You're in my bloody way."

"That's a lot of distress you're slinging about, Granger. Perhaps it's time for something new."

"I've no idea what you're suggesting, Malfoy, but I'm perfectly fine with my methods of stress management."

He examined the back of his hand and said, "Ah, yes. I suppose you have your gentleman friend to help."

"Not bloody likely," Hermione muttered, low so he wouldn't hear, but he seemed to perk up immediately as though he had. She refrained from face-palming as he handed her a forest green folder. The front of it contained the Malfoy Apothecary logo, an ouroboros with an old-script 'M' in the middle, all etched in gold.

"What the hell is this?"

"Just read it, Granger. And get back to me after your holiday."

She took a deep sigh as he pressed the button for the lift. He turned again. "Oh, and Granger?" She glared at him as a response.

"If you need any help with stress management," he'd walked over to her and stood only a foot or so away. He let his eyes drop down her body and he snapped them back up. "I could be of assistance."

She narrowed his eyes. Was this snake actually hitting on her? Or just making her think he was?

His next response left no room for error. "I tend to work late at the Apothecary most nights. But I'm usually home in my flat by eight. At your request, I would allow you floo access anytime you like."

Her lips parted in shock as he nodded. "Good day, Granger." Then he stepped in the lift and the doors closed over his smirk.

XXX

 _Somewhat-spoiler-note: So the drama begins this chapter! Oh, this wasn't as much of a fun one to write, but every story needs its conflict. If you need reassurances, there's no Dramione ahead, as Malfoy is around for plot purposes, plus he's such a great character to write (sorry to disappoint some of you, and myself, as wouldn't it be so much fun to see where that goes, if you're inspired, please, go for it and let me know!), AND there is a happy ending for our two leads. Oh, and there are plenty of lemons ahead, for those who are here for the smut._


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione marched to the store in such a bad mood that she was certain electricity cackled around her. She filled up her trolley with all the things a woman would need after the unnerving experience of being seduced by Draco bloody Malfoy, in broad daylight no less, plus the general feeling of heartache: chocolate, cheese, a half dozen bottles of various spirits and season two of Battlestar Galactica.

"Mmm," the cashier giggled. "Looks like it's going to be a fun party."

Hermione could only manage a grimace in response, but the woman couldn't take the hint. "Getting the girls together for the weekend, eh? Get a bit tipsy? I'm quite jealous, actually. Haven't had a night—"

"Here." Hermione threw the money at her, then charmed her bags with wandless weightlessness as she threw them over her shoulders and stomped out.

At soon she set foot in her flat, she closed the floo. She left the option open that anyone could call from the flames in the event of an emergency, but she didn't want anyone else to physically occupy her place except Crookshanks.

She poured herself a glass of Nefarious Unicorn Rum Cream and tore open the chocolate. "Looks like it's just me and you, Apollo," she said as she popped in the first DVD of the set. Crookshanks gave her a glare from the bookcase. "Oh, you, too, sweetie." The cat continued its glare for a few seconds, then disappeared into her bedroom, tail in the air. "Good grief," Hermione muttered.

Harry's head was the first to pop up on the floo. "Hermione. Are you there?"

She paused on a still of the character of Apollo (to be honest, she'd been rewinding and rewatching a lot of his scenes) and peeked over her the back of her sofa at the face in the fireplace. "Harry, I'm a bit busy at the moment. Is something the matter?"

"No, uh. I heard about the proposal and gods, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I just can't believe—"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "I mean, I truly appreciate it. And you know I love you. But I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Harry looked up. "You're watching a movie?"

"Yes. A series, actually. Brilliant. Brilliant development of characters, even of the artificial intelligence sort."

"You're sort of slurring your words, Hermione."

"Yes, Harry? What of it?

"Do you think you could let me through? Ginny and I, we're a bit worried."

Hermione laughed. "Don't worry, Harry, please. I just want to be alone for a while. Well, me and my very handsome guest, Lee Adama." She cackled, trying to make it seem like everything was jolly, but stopped when Harry scrunched up his face and she realized she sounded a bit manic.

"Uh. Alright. But if you need to talk, anytime at all—"

"Thanks, Harry."

She waited until she heard the rush of the floo closing, then let out a sigh so big and long, her eyes welled up. And all of a sudden, her heart felt like it'd just shattered, and she wept over the caramel-drizzled brie wheel in her lap.

At that moment, Ginny's head popped up. "Hermione Jean Granger, if you don't open this floo right now, I will personally see to it that the entire Auror force breaks open your front door."

Hermione sank into the couch, hoping Ginny would think she'd left.

"I know you're there, Hermione. I can see the top of your hair."

Hermione sighed, pushed her brie to the side and stood. "Whatever you two are worrying about, it's completely unnecessary. There's nothing—" she interrupted herself with a sob. "There's so many worse things in the world. It's not like there was a natural disaster or a terrorist attack." Her nose was stuffy and runny at the same time.

She reached the floo and turned it on. Ginny ran out of it and wrapped her arms around Hermione, who continued to wail. "There isn't a war. It's not like Death Eaters are out to get us anymore. I don't know why I'm so upset."

Ginny looked at her and said, "It's because the people you work with are utterly, utterly worthless pieces of hippogriff dung. Who voted on your censorship? I want names."

"There's at least a dozen of them."

"I want _every one_ and I _will_ make their lives a living hell."

"How are you going to do that?" Hermione sniffed. "I'm not sure there's a hex strong enough—"

"You're really questioning the witch who perfected the Bat-Bogey?"

Hermione laughed, which somehow sent her into a fit of sobs. Ginny ushered her to the sofa and continued to hold her. "Hermione, have you considered leaving your job? I mean, I know you're brilliant at it, but it just sounds so unrewarding, with all those buffoons—"

"It's not just that, Ginny," Hermione said. "I found out Charlie has a girlfriend in Romania."

"HE _WHAT_?!" If Ginny was angry before, now smoke nearly puffed out of her ears. "I am going to murder him. I swear it, Hermione."

"I feel so stupid, Gin. Honestly. I shouldn't be mad about it at all—"

"'Shouldn't be mad,' my arse! Who is this slag?"

"Ginny! I'm the slag! I'm the one he's been kissing and, and _licking,_ behind her back and—"

"Not if you didn't know! How on earth did you find out, anyway?"

Hermione grabbed her purse and handed Ginny the letter from Molly. Ginny leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so this is what Mum was talking about."

"What?"

"Well, that's how we found out about the proposal. Mum got your letter and she said you sounded very out of sorts. She told me she thought her meddling had finally gone too far, which I made her repeat about seven times. Can you imagine, Mum actually admitting that? I thought Merlin would return from the grave first. Anyway, she wanted to come see you herself, but I told her that probably wasn't the best idea."

"What does all that that mean? I'm so confused, Ginny."

"I think Mum knows about you and Charlie. Maybe he told her about some bird to get her off the trail. Which, from the looks of it, sent Mum into an absolute tizzy."

"You think he made it up?"

"Well, I'm not going to say it for certain, but I think it's highly plausible. Cheating on a girl with you? That's not Charlie. If it were true, I'd take him to a mind healer for a diagnosis before performing a Bat-Bogey over his arse."

Hermione had a slew of questions, but the image of bats flying out of Charlie's bottom startled her. She burst into a crazy fit of laughter, which lasted so long her stomach ached. Ginny chuckled along with her, then looked around. "Is this what's for dinner? Cheese and a bottle of Nefarious Unicorn?"

"Well, there's a great deal of chocolate in the kitchen, too."

"That's it." Ginny stood. "I'm making you some real food."

"Don't you dare, Ginevra! You have your own family—"

"Harry's taken the boys out for pizza. I need to eat, too."

"Ginny, let's just order something—"

"Hermione Granger!" Hermione shrank back slightly as Ginny inhaled, hands on hips, hair nearly on fire. "Do you remember when Harry and I had that big blow out before Albus was born and you came over and took the James for the _whole weekend_ so we could sort it out? And just a few months ago, when James fell off his training broom and you let Albus just absolutely _wreck_ your office because Harry was on patrol? And how about when the anniversary of Fred's death comes 'round every year and you go well out of your way to bring Mum and Dad some wonderful gift _every day for the whole week_ just to give them something happy to look forward too?" Ginny inhaled. "So let someone FUCKING TAKE CARE OF YOU FOR ONCE!"

Hermione closed her eyes and waved at the kitchen. "Point taken. Have at it."

Hermione turned Battlestar back on as Ginny cooked, who once in while came 'round to ask questions on the plot. "Ooh, who is he?" she asked when Apollo made an appearance.

"That is Lee Adama, and he's a man. A human man, which is an important distinction in this show. And, he's, well, sort of fucked up when it comes to relationships."

"Oh, aren't we all, though. You know, he kind of reminds me of Charlie."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I guess, if you just look at his muscles…"

"When he's being playful with that blonde, Star Luck—"

"Starbuck. Ugh, you're right. Now I can't watch this, Gin. Thanks." Hermione cut the show off.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sat down. "Are you coming to Angelina's and G—"

"No. No way."

"Hermione—"

"So everyone can give me looks of pity regarding my proposal? So I can have an enormously awkward encounter with Charlie? And, oh god— you should've seen what I wrote your mother today. There's no way I'm ready to look her in the eye."

Ginny cracked a half smile. "Does this have anything to do with Brock Missouri?"

"Oh, god, she told you?"

"She mentioned you were seeing an American football player! Which I knew was a lie, soon as I heard that absurd excuse for a name."

Hermione put her hands on her head. "Good Godric. I wrote that I was shagging a bloke named _Brock Missouri_. What on earth is wrong with me?"

"Wow, I didn't know you told her you were _shagging_ him. No wonder she was concerned."

Hermione reached for some parchment. "I need to explain myself."

Ginny snatched the page from her hands. "No. I will explain it to Mum. Later. I want her to stew a bit first. Let her feel the ramifications of all that stupid meddling."

"Gin, I don't know, that seems a little—"

"You need to talk to him. To Charlie, I mean. Just come to the party! Rip off the bandage."

"Trust me, tomorrow is not the day for that. I'm a wreck. Tell your parents I'm ill."

Ginny sighed. "Okay. But you know Mum's going to force one of us to bring you about eight plates of consumables."

Hermione sighed. "Well, that's fine. But only you or Harry. No one else. You hear me, Gin? No Dragon Keepers allowed."

"Point taken." Ginny smiled. "Come on. Let's eat and plan the demise if your co-workers."

They ate and made their way through two of Hermione's liquor purchases. Hermione laughed until she cried as Ginny went on about all the places she could conjure bats from regarding her colleagues, and when she went to bed that night, she felt somehow, things would be okay.

XXX

 _I've been really productive this week, so I'll get to post another chapter in a couple days. Yay! Also, I'm curious, who are you all picturing with Charlie? I have to admit, I've been thinking up a ginger Chris Hemsworth, which, by the way, if you google-image the phrase, you'll get some hilarious (and yummy) results. Next chapter, our favorite Dragon Keeper will make an appearance, and naturally, there will be a good, old-fashioned lemon._


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, her mood returned to the bin once more. She flipped on another episode of Battlestar, but realized nothing good could come from having yet another pity party, and so she set about cleaning the entirety of her flat. As she crept around, looking for hidden corners to dust, she caught a glimpse of her hair in the mirror, which, she noticed, resembled a pygmy puff nest more than anything else. "Hmm, I suppose that could use a cleaning, too," she muttered. So she hopped in the shower and washed her hair, combing it, as she learned through the internet, with a wide-tooth comb as it was saturated with conditioner to avoid breakage.

She then decided a good, long bath with some wine sounded like a good way to—not have a pity party, of course, it'd be a _celebration_ , she decided—but to celebrate what? Her new whore status? Being temporarily censured? No, she'll celebrate her newly cleaned home. Good enough reason as any.

She drew the bath, the one she'd been desperate to have for months now, turning capful after capful of sandalwood and rose oil into it. And when she slipped into it, wine bottle in hand, she moaned. Nothing, in a long while, had felt this good. Nothing except for, perhaps, Charlie's tongue. Or his giant dick. Then she banished all thoughts of Charlie as she opened up _The Secret Language of Dragons_ , one Ginny had bought her ages ago for some birthday or another.

XXX

The light in the bathroom had nearly receded into the blue of evening. She'd been using her feet to refill the water to keep it warm for the last couple of hours. She was about to finish her last sip of wine when a glow of white shot through the window. It settled right in front of her, and she recognized the blurred edges of a gorgeous, ghostly mare. "Hermione. I just had the hugest row with Mum because she insisted the, ah, _dragon keeper_ bring you your food. And as we were having it out, he just, just disappeared, and I think he might be there, but he must've locked your floo because we've been trying for the last three minutes—"

"Hermione?" She heard his voice echo through her flat.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself. She grabbed her wand and sent her patronus back to Ginny. "Yeah, he's here. But don't worry, Gin. I'll take care of him," she added darkly. She pushed herself out of the tub and threw her robe on, not even bothering to dry. She flung herself out of the bathroom to catch Charlie setting her table, having just deposited a massive amount of food in the middle of it.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He smiled at her, but, she noted victoriously, he also looked half terrified. "We're going to have dinner."

"Oh, really, is that right? We're just going to sit down and discuss this Romanian girlfriend of yours, and her perfect bloody hair, are we?" She'd grabbed a plate and was waving her hands about. She realized she must've resembled an intoxicated octopus and slowly lowered her arms.

He grimaced. "So you've heard about Rama, huh?"

Well, he didn't deny it. So Hermione did the only thing she could think of at that moment. She threw the plate at him. "Holy shit, Hermione," he gasped as he ducked. The plate hit the wall behind him, smashing into a thousand spectacular pieces.

"Yes, I've heard you've been going behind her back to screw me all over, god, your _parents'_ home, Charlie! What the fuck!" This time, she hurled a fork at him, the handle of which hit his stomach and clattered to the ground.

She stopped, her chest heaving as he looked at her up and down, just noticing, perhaps, that her hair was dripping, and beads of rose-scented water clung to her chest and legs. He walked to her slowly, in the way she thought he might've been trained to approach an ornery beast. She looked him over, too—couldn't help it, really, as he looked as cut and beautiful as ever—and noticed the prominent bulge in his trousers. What the hell was wrong with him? "Don't you dare touch me," she warned.

"Rama's a dragon."

"What?"

"Rama. She's a Peruvian Riversnout."

"You're dating a Peruvian Riversnout?"

He burst into laughter. "I told Mum I was seeing a bird named Rama because she wouldn't get off my case about you. She knows, you know. About us. Or at least, she thought she did, 'til I threw her off course." He'd stopped laughing now, and added, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to do. I didn't think she'd owl you the first chance she got."

"Oh," Hermione said. It was all she could say. She reached her hand out, trembling, as she ran it over his shoulder, down the hard river rock of his pec, down each abdominal, until she reached his erection. By now, his breath had also increased.

"Hermione?" he said. She tensed her thighs and realized how wet she was. Merlin, what the hell was wrong with her?

"Mm?" She'd pressed her palm onto his cock, which twitched against her.

"Can I touch you yet?"

She nodded, and he reached in her robe and slid his fingers over her clit. "Fuck," she said, her knees buckling. He walked closer, his thumb stroking her clit as he slid two fingers inside her. She leaned on his arm and moaned, grinding against his fingers. She reached and unbuckled his belt, pulling out his cock. It was so hard she could feel it pulsing in her hands.

"You want it now?" he mumbled, his fingers curling into her g-spot.

"Oh, gods. Yes. Now."

He pulled his hand away and grabbed her bottom, lifting her onto him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed her against the wall and slid his cock inside. "Oh, God," she said as he groaned in her ear. He thrust into her hard and slow, taking nearly the whole of him out each time before dropping in. The only sounds that could be heard were their moans and gasps between the slaps of skin contact.

She came in ten thrusts, the orgasm coming slow and hard, the same way he fucked her. She bit his shoulder as she shrieked, her arms tightening around his.

He lifted her from the wall and sat back on one of her dining chairs, putting his hands on her hips. She got the hint and pressed her feet flat on the floor, riding him with the same sort of ferocity she'd just used to fling kitchenware. "Oh, fucking, bloody—" she couldn't finish her phrase as another orgasm rocked through her. She arched her back and couldn't move, couldn't feel her legs, so he took the liberty of gripping onto her hips even tighter and continued to rock her on him.

"How can your cock feel so good?" she asked, almost a whine in her voice. She realized she must've sounded very buzzed but couldn't stop. "How can anyone's cock feel so good?"

He tightened his jaw and exhaled fast, his hands grasping even tighter as he bucked his hips up. One, two, three pumps and he shuddered, the grunt of her name on his lips.

She waited a few seconds for him to catch his breath. Then she said, "So. No Romanian girlfriends."

He grinned wildly and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, sweet kiss. "No. Not at all."

XXX

 _So another short one, but there are longer chapters to look forward to, ones with dragons and keepers and lemons! So, kudos to Red Garden Gnome for predicting that Rama wasn't real, and also to lareepqg for knowing Rama's a dragon. I very much enjoyed all of your Charlie suggestions, from Mark Peacock (from Red Garden Gnome, and I had to look him up and I must say, oh thank you for that gift, I found a photo of him wearing a knitted Christmas sweater which is oh, so Weasley-perfect) and tigersmeleth, who suggested Jamie from Outlander, which is also a fabulous visual. I thought he was fairly handsome until I saw a clip of the show and OH MY GOD THAT MAN'S VOICE IS SOOOO SOOO SEXY, very much what I imagine CW to sound like (and now, of course, I think he's delicious). Hope you all enjoy this, love your reviews as usual, new chapter coming soon._


	12. Chapter 12

"So this Rama," Hermione asked, cutting a piece of her roast. "Would you say she's your favorite dragon?"

"Well, the thing with Rama is," Charlie said, his eyes twinkling. "She's a very special dragon. Caught a lot of blokes' eyes."

"Hmm," Hermione said as she forked a potato in her mouth. "Sounds like a slag to me."

"Well, she's very beautiful. It can't be helped." He grabbed another roll and spread butter on it. "Why, are you jealous?"

"Just sounds to me like you've been spending a lot of time with her." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"She's good company."

Hermione laughed. "Did you say she was a Peruvian Riversnout? I've never even heard of those before."

Charlie swallowed his bite. "Well, that's because we've only just discovered her six months ago."

"Oh my goodness! Wow! Is that common, to find new breeds like that?"

"It's fairly rare, actually. We were keeping it a secret for a bit, gearing up for the public announcement."

Hermione blinked. "Wait a minute. You've had Rama for six months, which is the maximum timeframe for new species registration, may I remind you. Why is this the first time I'm hearing about her?"

Charlie gave her a half-smile. "Well, yeah, was going to tell you about that. When I came to see you in your office last week, I brought her registration papers. But then, you know. You stood up and I got to see you in that tight skirt thing—"

"It's called a pencil skirt."

"—and your librarian spectacles—"

"Reading glasses."

"—and that bun in your hair, with all those curls sticking out—"

"Ugh. That's just called a mess."

He smiled and looked at her for a few seconds, long enough for her to feel uncomfortable. She stood and gathered their plates. "So you _were_ doing business last week, after all."

"Hmm?"

She glanced over. He was still smiling at her, so relaxed and goofy that she almost wanted to slap him. "Harry said you were there to surprise me and take me out but I insisted, I mean I knew that you were, you were just—"

He wrapped an arm around her from behind and put a kiss to the back of her neck. "You go sit down, love. I'll take care of the dishes."

"But you brought the food! That hardly seems fair."

"I delivered my _mother's_ food. And you've had a rough week. Go on. I'll join you shortly."

Hermione smiled. "I absolutely hate doing dishes, Charlie, so I'm not going to protest."

"Lucky for you, I'm my mother's son and know what I'm doing." He squeezed her hip and she started toward her recliner. She leaned back and sighed, feeling the comfort of a Molly Weasley meal settle her bones. She opened her eyes and watched him through the kitchen door, the muscles cutting through his grey t-shirt. She smiled, loving the sight, but frowned immediately, unnerved by such immediate adoration. It's just a man in the kitchen, she scolded herself. Nothing to lose your mind over.

"So you _were_ on business that day," she started again.

"Well, sort of. They were going to owl the registration forms, but I volunteered to deliver them myself."

" _And_ you were planning on taking me to lunch?"

He dried his hands with the towel, walked over, and pulled her up. "Hey," she said. "I was comfortable."

"You were taking over the bloody thing." He took his wand, enlarged her chair, then plopped down, grinning. He patted his lap and waggled his eyebrows. She smiled, rolled her eyes and sat down. He leaned them back so they were almost horizontal and slung an arm around her. She rested her head on his chest.

"I like spending time with you," he said. "I like talking to you. So yes, I wanted to take you out."

"Why didn't you?"

He inhaled a little sharply, drumming his fingers on the small of her back. "To be honest, I felt a bit stupid once I got there. You were so clearly busy, so shocked to see me—"

"Well, since you, in fact, live in Romania, I was rather surprised."

"Right. Well, I got very flustered, especially by this—" his hands lowered to her arse, "and sort of decided to give you an orgasm instead."

"Well, that was very kind of you, Charlie," Hermione said, laughing.

He didn't say anything for a minute. But then, in a soft voice: "I know I was a right coward. I just didn't know what you wanted with this. With us. Still not certain, really."

Hermione felt something like panic wrangle at her heart. She could feel him holding his breath, waiting for her to say something, anything—

"Draco Malfoy offered me a job," she blurted.

He blinked. "Did he, now?"

"Yes!" She jumped up, grabbing her purse to pull out the Apothecary folder. She paced in front of him, ruffling the papers inside. "He's looking for another potioneer, to experiment and come up with new ideas for his tonics and tinctures and things. In particular, he wrote that he remembered that I focused on subtractive potions in my last year at Hogwarts. He's looking at using a lot more of the subtractive sorts, you know, the ones where you add all the ingredients first, then—"

"I know what subtractive potions are, Hermione." Charlie put his hands behind his head. "The most difficult sort, yeah? Not surprised you'd concentrate on them. Not at all." He paused. "So are you taking the job?"

"Oh, God, no. I certainly don't fancy being sexually harassed by my own boss on a regular basis, and besides—" she plopped on her sofa, facing him. "I want to make a _cultural_ difference. I joined the Ministry just out of Hogwarts because I wanted to change all of this underlying prejudice that's still lurking, god, everywhere, even though the War is years gone." She sighed. "I want to promote peace and help everyone heal."

"Thing is," she continued, praying she wasn't boring him to death. "Malfoy's offer did get me really excited, in a way. I didn't realize how much I missed making things. For years I've just been buried under paperwork, almost every initiative I take being crushed before it can even germinate. It is really tempting to quit and, I don't know, _play_ , with oak leaf and mandrake and oil of unicorn hair…" she drifted off.

Charlie's stare unnerved her. He didn't speak for nearly a full thirty seconds, and Hermione started to wonder if she'd put him in some comatose state until finally, he barked, "Visit me in Romania."

She jumped at the harshness of his voice. "What?"

"Sorry," he said, swallowing. "I didn't mean to yell. But, you've got your holiday, right? And no plans…"

"Well, no..."

"Come visit me, then."

"Visit," Hermione said, her mind already rolling into a tornado of logistics. "You mean today?"

"Well, not exactly today. I have some things I need to do, but I'll take time off starting Tuesday. You can come then, stay with me for a week or so."

"A week or so," Hermione repeated.

Charlie smiled, standing. He grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him on the chair, until they were reclining once more, her head on his shoulder, his arms tight around her. He spoke softly, his voice husky in her ear. "I have a house. I'll cook for you. We can hike in the mountains, if you'd like. I'll introduce you to some dragons, even. From a distance, that is." His body trembled under her as he chuckled.

"Well," Hermione said slowly. "That does sound nice." She felt herself relaxing into his warmth, and she ran her hand over his arm muscles. "What should I pack? Do I need to bring anything nice or—"

"Bring stuff you don't mind getting dirty. Bring something you'd wear if a handsome dragon keeper were to, say, take you out to dinner." Hermione laughed as he continued. "Bring a few items you don't mind me fucking you in." His voice was feral now, and a shiver ran through her spine.

"Oh?" Hermione said, raising her head.

"Unless, of course, you've got plans with.. what was it, again? Bob Missouri?"

"Oh, my god," Hermione buried her face in his shoulder. "You heard about Brock?"

"'Course I bloody heard. Mum's been on my case for the last day and a half, telling me how I've blown it with you. But I didn't think you were really serious with someone with a name like that, not without everyone hearing about it." He laughed.

"Well, I was so angry and tipsy about Rama, when I thought she was your girlfriend. It was so stupid and childish, to just make that up…"

"Oh, I don't know. I like the idea of you being jealous for me."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, so she smacked him and said, "Shut up." He tightened his arms around her and laughed so heartily, Hermione couldn't help but join him.

"So, what's this about being sexually harassed by Malfoy?" She felt his muscles tighten a bit. Speaking of jealous, she thought.

"Oh, that." Hermione rolled her eyes and filled him in on her two recent encounters with the snake. By the time she was finished, Charlie was chuckling incessantly.

"The thing is," Hermione added. "I'm not sure if he's actually genuine in his offer of sex, or if he's just trying to one-up me."

"Oh, he's genuine."

She pushed up to look at him. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, look at you, first of all." Hermione scoffed but he ignored it. "Since you gave him that image, you riding a bloke's face, coming until you almost die? He's been wanking to it no less than three times a day. Guaranteed."

"Yeah, right." Hermione said. "This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about. No way."

"Mmm. As I said. Look at you." His hands reached her bottom again, but he reluctantly pulled them back up. "Love, I've got to get going. Work early and all."

"Oh." She was surprised at how disappointed she felt. "Yes, of course."

"About that work thing," he said as they walked to the floo. "You're the cleverest witch I've ever known. Ever heard of, even. You'll find something perfect. I think this holiday is exactly what you need to get sorted out."

She smiled. "Thanks, Charlie."

He kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper, pushing her tongue in his mouth. He broke the kiss suddenly, breathlessly, saying, "If I kiss you any longer, I'm going to fuck you on the sofa, kitchen table, bed and shower, Hermione. In that order."

She felt a hot throb between her legs. "Do you have to go?"

"I do. So that I can get a week off starting Tuesday. Yeah, I do."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to have me all over Romania in a few days, huh?"

He gave her a wild grin. "I'm planning on it."

* * *

 _A visit to Romania with the promise of lemons ahead! Hurrah! I probably won't be able to update until next week, but we'll see how the writing goes. Oh! And I'm writing a one-shot for Draco/Hermione for you Dramione fans out there, something really hilarious and hot, I think, but I'm going to finish this one first before I post that. I think I've about 5-7 chapters left! Thanks for all your kind and lovely reviews and insights; they always make me smile._


	13. Chapter 13

_Note: Lemon ahead!_

* * *

"So, you need some hot dress to wear to dinner with my brother. In bloody _Romania_ , for Godric's sake. Are you still gonna tell me this is just sex?"

Hermione pulled a lime green number from a rack and wrinkled her nose, returning it. "Has it ever occurred to you and Harry that maybe I'm just _that_ good of a lay?"

Ginny snorted. "I actually hope that hasn't occurred to my husband, Hermione."

Hermione laughed. "Okay, fine. Things might be a bit more serious than 'just sex.'"

"A bit more, you say?

"Well, I'm not moving to Romania. And I'm certain Charlie's not moving back here, nor would I ever ask him to. So as serious as that gets."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You guys could do a long distance thing, right? Ever heard of those? You certainly put the efforts in for _shagging_ across countries."

"But what happens if one of us wants to get married?"

"Well, all of Mum's prayers are answered. Well, almost all. Until you're knocked up. _Then_ they'll all be answered."

Hermione scoffed, deciding to ignore that one. "I'm going for the olive," she said.

"Good choice. Charlie's favorite color and all."

Hermione turned to Ginny as they waited at the register. "I need to find just a couple more things for the trip."

"Sure. Just as long as we can stop by Wee Wizards and Witches. The boys have just about outgrown their shoes already. Where do you need to go?"

"Well, that's the thing. It might be a little awkward—"

Ginny groaned. "You want to go to Brooms and Cauldrons, don't you?"

Hermione paused. "I was thinking Hags and Harlots, actually, but that's a good idea. We can stop there, too."

"Good Godric, Hermione. We just ate lunch!"

"Relax. I just need a few pieces of lingerie, not a strap-on." She laughed as Ginny mimed gagging.

They apparated to Brooms and Cauldrons first. Hermione turned to Ginny. "I need your help, Ginny. Don't just stand there, making faces. You know I'm not any good at this."

"Well, having been out of practice long enough… hey!" She rubbed her arm where Hermione had playfully punched her.

Ginny closed her eyes. "Okay. Gotta psych myself up for this question." She rolled her head around.

"What the hell are you doing?" Hermione said. "You look just like Trelawney right now, and the shopkeeper's looking. Stop it, will you?"

"I'm just getting ready to ask something personal about you and my brother, and I'm trying to clear my brain, alright?" She snapped her fingers. "I know! Let's pretend you're with that Adonis fellow from your Battlestar show."

"What?" Hermione said, picking up a violet corset. "Oh, you mean Apollo."

"Right. Him. I'm going to be picturing him. Okay, what sort of sex does _Apollo_ like?"

"Um." Hermione thumbed through packages of fishnet stockings. "Well, so far we've done it mainly in secret and quickly at that. I haven't had much time to assess his, ah, style. But I think he likes it rough."

"Okay," Ginny said, rolling her head again.

"Gin, _stop_! You look _mental_."

"I'm just trying to psych myself up for a suggestion, Hermione, of crotchless knickers. If he likes it hard and fast and just can't wait."

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good. Where are they?"

She put two different sorts in her basket: one black lace and an emerald one that had a string of pearls settled down the middle of the crotch, which Ginny assured would stimulate her in a very pleasing manner.

"Don't go for the corsets," Ginny advised. "If he's as fast and hard as you say, you'll need the room to breathe."

"Okay. How about this thing?" Hermione held up a completely sheer red slip with roses embroidered on the edges.

"Mmm, I like that. I need to see if they have my size." Ginny lifted a duplicate garment victoriously, draping it over Hermione's basket. "Speaking of roses. I ran into Malfoy the other day. Not only did he _not_ ignore me, but he asked how _your_ holiday was going."

"Ugh, that prat," Hermione said. "He offered me a potions job at the Apothecary."

"Really? Hermione, that sounds like an amazing opportunity. You should consider it."

"No way," Hermione said. "Not if I'm working for _him_."

"Well, I still think you should explore other options. Your workplace is toxic, dear. You really need to get out of it. For your livelihood and well-being."

"Hmm," Hermione said, surveying an array of edible massage oils. "What flavors does Charlie like? Does he like strawberries or—"

"Fuck, Hermione! You said _Charlie_!" Ginny covered her face. "Now I have this god-awful image of him licking that off of you and you roaring like a dragon while flapping your arms like wings and—"

" _What?_ That is not _remotely_ how sex with Charlie is—"

"Granger! You bloody said it _again_!"

"Sorry." She put her basket on the ground and placed her hands on Ginny's shoulders. "Apollo."

"Apollo," Ginny repeated.

"Apollo," Hermione repeated back, until Ginny chanted it with her and visibly calmed.

"Okay, distasteful image is gone." Ginny peeked behind Hermione's shoulder. "But now the shopkeeper thinks we belong to a cult."

"Well, help me decide on a flavor and then we'll go."

That night, as Hermione tidied the kitchen, she tried to pin down a strange feeling she'd been carrying for a few days. She hadn't been working, she reminded herself, and was therefore much more relaxed in general. But that wasn't quite it. Nor was she content. Not exactly.

As she packed for the trip, it finally occurred to her, and she nearly gasped. She was _happy_. Try as she might, she couldn't deny it to herself. Happiness was always something she'd resigned to other, more deserving people. Yet here she was.

She decided to get to sleep before thinking about it too hard.

XXX

"Hermione Granger," Charlie announced as she flung herself through his floo.

"Charlie!" she said. "Hi!"

His smile was so wide, it included the corners of his eyes. Hermione couldn't think of any point in her love life in which a man was so giddy to see her. He wrapped his arms around and lifted her as he hugged her. Merlin, he smelled good—like oak and pine and orange blossom. She restrained from licking him for a taste.

His hands lingered over her waist and hips after he set her down. She knew that look in his eyes; he was about one kiss away from ripping her clothes off. He must've noticed how frazzled she looked though, and, taking that into account, he picked up her bags, instead. "Let me give you the tour, love," he said, beckoning her to follow with a wink.

After leading her all over his cozy mountain retreat, Hermione paused. "I was under the impression that those who worked on the reservation lived in dormitories."

"Yeah, but after nearly ten years of that, I was ready for something a bit more… grown up," he finished.

"Well, it's absolutely gorgeous. I can't get over the view!"

"Wait 'til you see the master bedroom," he said, his voice deep.

He pushed the door open and Hermione gasped. The room itself was just as quaint and charming as the rest of the house: a bed with a large driftwood headboard that she'd bet money Charlie crafted himself, a reading chair in the corner, and a French-door balcony which opened to the snow-capped range that surrounded them. "Gods, this is perfect," she said.

"I do have a guest room," he said. "I didn't want to assume—"

"You can leave my bags in here," Hermione said quickly. He treated her to a wild grin.

He settled her bags near his armoire and turned to her with clasped hands. "Well! You hungry?"

"Starved," Hermione admitted. "Half my portkeys activated late so I missed lunch entirely."

"Dinner's ready to go, right this way."

He set the dish between them on his breakfast nook, settled next to a wall of windows that revealed the green expanse of forest. "I know I said I'd cook for you, Hermione, but I have to confess, I'm absolutely rubbish at it. One of my work mates heard me stressing about what to make you, and she decided to spare me the trouble and brought this lasagna over."

"That's so sweet," Hermione said as he served her a helping. "It smells glorious."

"We're in the middle of a harvest here in the community, so we're up to our ears in berries and—" he gestured to their food, "winter squash. Anna calls this her harvest lasagna and it's brilliant."

Hermione had already eaten several bites. "Oh my GOD, yes, it is. What's all in it?"

He shrugged. "Pumpkin? Butternut? Honeyhew? Those are my best guesses."

"I need this recipe," Hermione said before stuffing her mouth with another enormous bite.

"Well, if you'd like, we've been invited to a dinner at her place in a couple days. All of my people want to meet you." His eyes sparkled. "You could ask her for it yourself."

"Uh, okay," Hermione said. "Yeah, that sounds fun."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound very excited."

"Well, it's not that I'm not excited. More like, I'm socially awkward especially when meeting people for the first time. It's always been a bit nerve-wracking."

"These dragon keepers and dragonologists—they're not exactly a pompous lot. But we absolutely don't have to—"

"No!" She put her hand on his. "I want to. Okay?"

He nodded, a goofy half-smile emerging in his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll let them know."

XXX

After dinner, Hermione found herself in the middle of a furious make-out session with Charlie. She wrapped her legs around him from the counter as he pressed his body against hers. She broke the kiss suddenly, breathing hard. "I'm so sorry, Charlie, as all the gods know how much I want to ride you until kingdom come, but I feel like a mess. Running around, traveling all day—"

"I get it," he said, pressing his lips against her forehead. "The bathroom with the big tub is in my room. Why don't you go have a bath and I'll clean up the kitchen."

"Thank you." She kissed his cheek, gliding her hand over the firmness of his muscles before sliding off the counter.

In the room, she opened her suitcase and pulled all the lingerie she'd purchased with Ginny and laid each piece on his bed. She eyed each one, trying to figure out what Charlie would like more, when he burst in with a towel in his hand. "Hermione, I nearly forgot, but here's a…" he drifted off as he stared at the collection on the bed. "Well, well," he said, sauntering next to her to get a closer look. "What have we here?"

Hermione suddenly felt bashful. "I, uh, went shopping." A blush crept up her cheeks.

"Yes, that you did." He clapped his hands together, looking positively delighted. "Do I get to choose?"

She smiled shyly. "Have at it."

He examined each one carefully, finally settling on the pearl knickers. "These look fun." He waggled his eyebrows as he held it up with his fingertips.

Hermione laughed. "I was advised that the pearls make it very pleasurable."

"By whom?"

Hermione shook her head. "You don't want to know."

"A member of my family? A female member? Yeah, you're right, don't want to know."

She grabbed the knickers and the towel from his hands. "What about the braziers?"

"I want your breasts bare."

She smiled. "Well, I suppose I'll be seeing you shortly." She tried to walk as sexily as she could to the bathroom, swinging her hips. Before she shut the door, she turned to him and winked.

"Bloody hell," she heard him say through the door.

As tempting as a bath sounded, Hermione decided to run the shower instead. She wanted to clean up quickly, for very obvious reasons.

Afterwards, she rubbed a face potion in to give herself a pretty glow, dabbed Bed of Roses on her pulse points, and waved her wand over her hair until the wet curls turned into full, tousled waves. She finally pulled on the knickers and felt a bit absurd. Would he really like this?

When she opened the door, she found Charlie leaned back on his bed, stripped down to his boxers, book in hand. She nearly whimpered at the sight. He turned to her and promptly dropped his book.

"Fuck, Hermione," he said, his eyes as lusty as she'd ever seen them. Well, that certainly answered her question. He beckoned for her to join him, but she had another idea.

"Is it alright if I read for a bit, too?" she asked innocently, leaning back into his reading chair. She draped her legs over the side of the chair and decided to switch sides, giving him an eyeful of her spread legs in the process. He looked as though he would protest, but after _that_ view, he threw himself off the bed and towards her.

She glanced at the pile of books on the table next to her, idly grabbing one. "Hmm, fascinating," she said, turning it over in her hands. " _The Breeding Habits of the Romanian Long_ — oh!"

Charlie'd interrupted her by throwing her legs open, hanging each one on either arm rest. He sat on the ottoman and ran his thumb along her clit. "Good one, that is. Really gets into detail on the dancing. With illustrations, even."

She tossed the book back on the table and stilled his hand. "Charlie, your finger is so rough, it's just a bit much right now."

"Oh?" He dropped to his knees, pushing the ottoman away. "So, love—" he pressed a few kisses to her inner thighs. "Is there something better I can use on that pretty, wet cunt of yours?" He ran his mouth over the outer lips of her pussy and she moaned. "Hmm?"

"Your tongue," she stammered. "Put your tongue on me, please, Charlie, for the love of Merlin."

He smiled, lowered his head and gave her clit a long, hard swipe. His pushed his tongue along the string of pearls, slowly. Hermione gasped and cried out. "Faster," she whispered.

Between the wet heat of his tongue and the smooth slide of the pearls back and forth, she felt the oncoming orgasm immediately. "Oh, fuck," she whispered. "It's—I'm gonna—"

She threw her head back and screamed, pulling his head to her deeper. She knew he could probably feel her clit throbbing over his tongue, which he slowed to let her ease out of it. As soon as she had some control over her breath, he pushed up and threw her over his shoulders. After tossing her on the bed, he rolled her over to her hands and feet. He pushed the pearls over a touch and pushed his length into her.

Hermione moaned. God, she'd missed getting fucked by Charlie. He slammed his hips against her, pushing in deeper than she'd ever felt him. She curled her body so she could gaze at him and nearly came again at the sight: his muscles all cut and tense, his eyes closed, his lips parted as he let out a feral groan. "Harder," she choked out. His eyes snapped open and made contact with hers. He thrust so hard, she had to push her pelvis back against him so she wouldn't fly across the bed. With each pump, the pearls tightened over her clit, sometimes even sliding over it. It felt so fucking good, Hermione wasn't even sure when her second orgasm began. As it washed over her, she buried her face in a pillow and screamed for what seemed like an eternity, feeling herself tighten around him as he joined her.

He collapsed next to her. "Welcome to my humble abode, Hermione," he said between gasps of breath. She laughed into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione awoke to gold sunshine peering through the window, grazing her hip. She stretched and looked for Charlie, but only found a note on his pillow letting her know he'd gone off to get breakfast. She took the opportunity to use the loo, freshen up and throw her hair into a wild bun.

She took a lazy walk around Charlie's room, naturally drawn to the piles of books tucked here and there. All that was missing from his place was a library, she mused. She thumbed through his armoire. He owned only a handful of dress shirts and slacks and ties, several which she'd seen before at various Weasley weddings.

His daily wear was mainly thrown into a short dresser—t-shirts, flannel button-downs, jeans with blackened holes burnt through them. She wondered how high the turnover rate was for these. She dug around a little until she spotted his old Quidditch jersey from Hogwarts, softened and threadbare. She threw it on and flopped onto the bed with _Dragonlore: A History_.

She scarcely noticed when Charlie entered the room with a brown bag in hand. It was only when she heard the click of a camera that she looked up.

"Good morning," he said, grinning at her.

"What do you think you're doing with that?" Hermione asked, pushing herself up.

"Look," he said, sitting down beside her. She saw his photo playing on the screen: her, belly down on the bed, bare legs thrown up behind her, flipping the page of the book. The light had now settled across her legs and hair, and she could even see the spiral dance of flecks within it. "Look at how beautiful you look," Charlie added, so low that it was almost just a secret for himself. "I'm going to save this one. 'Hermione's first trip to Romania.'"

"My _first_ trip, eh?"

"Yeah." He winked and picked up the bag. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything."

They settled back on the pillows and made their way through the eggs and sausages and croissants, both regular and, to Hermione's delight, chocolate.

"I'm cooking for you tonight," Charlie announced. "But be warned, I can only do one meal really well."

"Well, that's about one more than me," Hermione said. "Well, no. I can make the best pie in the world."

"Is that so?" Charlie said. "Well, I've got a fridge full of roarberries, dragonberries and huckleberries. If you'd like to prove it."

"You're on," Hermione said.

He cleared their plates and returned to the bed, plopping down beside her, the weight of his muscles causing her to bounce up with a yelp. He laughed and pinned her down on the bed, causing her breath to increase rather quickly. "Don't think I haven't noticed your thieving ways, Granger," he said, his voice so husky and raw, she instantly felt goose bumps prick along her arms. He pulled on the jersey she wore until her shoulder was exposed. He bent and left warm kisses all the way up her neck.

"It looks better on me than you," Hermione said breathlessly. She ran her hand down and stroked his cock through his jeans with her fingernails, something she knew she could do only through thick fabric. His breathing hitched. "Fuck," he said. Then he reached over and pulled the jersey over her head, revealing the nothing she wore underneath. "No. You look much better without it, I'd say."

It took them two hours before they could leave the bed.

XXX

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Hermione said, her voice breaking from the wobble. She was elevated maybe three feet or so on one of Charlie's old brooms at a the beginning of a flight trail in the woods.

He swerved around her, smooth as butter, Hermione noted. "You just have to ease back into it. When's the last time you've been on a broom?"

"Uhh," Hermione said, scarcely being able to recall.

Charlie chuckled. "That long, eh?"

"I'm not the biggest fan of heights."

"We'll stay low. In the woods. Well, there's one part that gets a little high but I'll warn you before we hit it."

"What do you mean, 'gets a little high'?" Hermione said through gritted teeth. Why did no broom she ever tried want to _obey_ her? It was like they shared the same sentiment she had for them.

"You'll see, love." Charlie smiled and stopped in front of her. "Come on, let's go. Once we're moving, it'll get easier."

They started slowly, probably painstakingly so for him. As they went, it did get easier, as Charlie promised. Soon she glided almost as smoothly as Charlie, and this is when she let herself relax a touch.

Thick rays of light poured in the forest, creating a completely different, more welcoming feel than that of the Forbidden Forest. A few trees here and there bore leaves of red and gold, and even one sort shimmered in a pale lavender.

"That one's called the Maeve Blossom," he said. "Best not to get near it."

"Why?" Hermione called.

"Sacred to the fae."

Well, that was all the warning she needed. Hermione made sure to keep her distance from any unusual trees from then on.

"Oh!" Charlie said as a break in the forest loomed upon them. "This is the part, Hermione!"

"What?" she said. But as she flew into the open sky, she figured it out rather fast. Charlie had led them over an enormous valley, with snow-topped mountains on either side of them.

"The trail continues just over this ridge," he called behind him, but Hermione was no longer listening. Indeed, she wasn't even flying. Her hands shook as she stared at the ground several hundred feet below her. The broom wobbled as she started counting. _One, two, three, four, five, six_ …

By the time she'd reached nine, Charlie had rounded back on her, grabbing her arm. "This way," he said, gently turning her around. When they were safely back in the forest, Hermione lunged off the broom, her knees and arms hitting the ground.

"Hermione!" Charlie said. "Bloody hell. We're not that low."

But she closed her eyes and took long, chattering breaths until she finally calmed. When she looked up, Charlie crouched next to her, watching. She, once again, felt like one of his dragons. "Why didn't you tell me about, about, _that_?" she said, her voice high in alarm.

"When you said you weren't a fan of heights, I didn't know you meant actual terror." His arms were around her. "Gods. I'm sorry."

She eased into him and sighed. "I know. I didn't want you to know what a coward I am."

He leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "You. Hermione Granger who won us a whole bloody war against the darkest wizard to ever walk? A coward?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. "We had Harry, too."

He laughed and hugged her once more. "Well," he said, looking around. He reached for the basket in his bag. With his wand, he returned it to its normal size, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of wine. "This looks as good a place as any to have our picnic."

XXX

With a cushioning charm placed on the blanket below them, Hermione stretched lazily in Charlie's arms, staring up at the tree tops. The lunch of sandwiches and fruit had done wonders to help her mood stabilize. Also, Charlie's warmth as he traced circles over her arms certainly helped, too.

"It started after the War," she said softly. He waited. "My fear of heights." She took another long breath. "It's not just heights. I'm also frightened of Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban and targeting Albus and James. I'm scared of bugs and dark corners and really high heels and travel and—and—well, there's quite a bit more. But that's a start. And none of it was a big deal until after the War."

He tightened his arms around her. "Think about what you've been through. That's all natural. And it will pass. It may take a while, but it will." He sounded so sure, she couldn't help but feel a wave of hope wash through her.

"How are your parents?" Charlie asked after a few minutes.

Hermione blinked. "Oh. They're great. Still in Australia. They complain I don't visit enough, naturally, even though I fly out several times a year."

"You ever invite them to the Burrow?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "They came for my birthday a few months ago, actually. Your mother practically broke her back in preparations, but everyone seemed to get on well. They love you lot."

"My birthday's coming up soon," Charlie said. "A month and a half or so. You should tell them to come over. I'd like to meet them."

Hermione furrowed her brow, pushing up to look at him. "Really? Why?"

Charlie's face fell but he hid it with a smile and a shrug. "They're your parents, love." His voice was soft, unsure. "We could visit them, if that'd be easier."

"I'll see if they're free," Hermione responded slowly, sinking back into his grasp.

He seemed content with that, humming into her ear. At that moment, a wide-winged shadow in the distance flew above. Hermione gasped. "Was that—"

"Oh, yes it was," Charlie said, chuckling.

"But how do you control—"

"Well, we put a charm on them. One that leads them back to the sanctuary. They get bloody cranky if they don't get out every couple days." He nudged her up. "We should get back, love. I need to start dinner soon and you need to get to work on the world's greatest pie, yeah?"

Hermione smiled, knocked his torso back down and straddled him. She cup his face and bent to kiss him. He hadn't shaved in a few days and that scruff was making her all kinds of mad. His whiskers were soft, scratching at her in the most pleasing of ways when he kissed her neck or her breasts or… elsewhere.

He thrust up against her as their kiss deepened rapidly. His hand made its way up her shirt and under her bra and she broke the kiss to moan. He pulled his hand out and pulled up upright in a matter of seconds. "Come on, Hermione. Just thought of another task we need to complete as soon as possible."

"Is that right," Hermione said slyly.

"Get your gorgeous bottom on that broom," he said with a wink.

When they arrived at his place, he grabbed her and kissed her hard before ripping her top off. They barely made it through the door as he collapsed on top of her, thrusting inside of her as soon as he could rip her clothes off. She arched her back and gasped when the orgasm hit her quickly, his not far behind.

* * *

 _So sorry these updates are getting further apart! I've been putting in words like crazy on another project I'm working on. It's been hard this week to switch back and forth between worlds. But here it is! Lots of fluff. Next chapter will have a very hot, detailed lemon, dinner with the co-workers, and a visit to the dragons. I think we're about five chapters away from the end! Holy cow!_

 _So now I have to ask you guys, what one dinner can Charlie Weasley make really well? I haven't figured it out yet. It'll only have one reference next chapter, so it's not a huge deal, but I can't think of something that's not completely cliche._

 _I've put up a Dramione two-shots that is also going to be delayed with its update, but if you're into that, you can go on and check it out!_

 _Thanks so much for reading and reviews!_


	15. Chapter 15

_This lemon got so lengthy, it got its own chapter. So, yeah. Lemon ahoy!_

* * *

"So where on earth did Charlie Weasley learn how to make paella?" Hermione asked as they snuggled on the sofa, glasses of Mountain Moonstone Moonshine in hand.

"Well, where'd you learn how to make the best damned pie I've ever eaten?"

"I asked first." She playfully hit his shoulder.

"Well," he smiled and took a sip. "About nine or so years ago, I spent a few days on the Spanish reservation. They were hosting one of the most boring conferences I've had the pleasure of attending, one on the prime gut flora necessary for their teenage dragons' development. And after about an hour of that, I sort of split with one of the local dragon keepers."

"A witch?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well, not a wizard." Charlie smiled. "This girl was appalled that the only thing I knew how to cook was toast. And I'm not exaggerating. That was about all I could handle, having just left Mum's and never needing to know much more than that. So she sat me down and forced me to memorize this recipe." He paused, taking a sip of the moonshine. "And I haven't learned shite about cooking since."

"So you know how to make toast and paella," Hermione said.

"And tea," Charlie added, raising his glass like a toast before taking another swig.

"I'm sorry that I'm no help with that," Hermione said, laughing. "I've got some of your and my mums' classics under my belt—lasagna, beef stew, Shepherd's pie, green curry with rice and potstickers, shrimp scampi…" She looked at the fingers she'd been counting with. "And that's it, really."

Charlie snorted. "Why am I not surprised that Hermione Granger's version of not being able to cook includes pulling off a multi-ethnic menu of complex dishes?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Not compared to your mum. Or even Harry!"

He laughed, set down his glass and pulled her closer. "So who taught you how to bake a pie?"

"My mum," she said, resting her hand on his chest. "My parents are really into low-sugar desserts. And since fruit pies rely more on the fruit's sweetness than much else, she sort of mastered them over the years. She can craft these really lovely designs out of the pie dough, which I can't even do with magic. Leaves, berries, things like that. Her pies are almost too beautiful to eat."

"Mmm," Charlie said, his fingers grazing the edge of her breast. "I could say the same thing about you, you know."

"You know what I was thinking?" Hermione said, pushing forward to look at him.

"Hmm?"

"I think we should take it very slow tonight. The sex, I mean."

He frowned. "Has it not been to your liking?"

"Are you kidding? I've literally had more orgasms the last two days than my entire life." She smiled. "I _love_ it. What we've been doing. It's just, well. I brought some massage oil."

"Oh?" He took the opportunity to unbutton her jeans and pushed his hand into her knickers.

"Yes," she gasped as he stroked her clit with the tip of his finger. "And I thought we could massage one another first." She let out a small moan. "And… and.. oh God. And I want to find out all your erogenous… ohh… zones."

"I think I've found one of yours," he chuckled into her ear.

She gave him a sideways glance. "Lazy arse. The clitoris is the most obvious of—" she stopped as she gasped again. She grabbed his hand and pulled it out of her jeans. "Anyway, I want to massage you first."

He winked at her. "Have at it, my lady," he said, gesturing to himself.

"Not here," she scoffed. "Take off all your clothes and get on the bed."

"Yes, Madame," he said, saluting her as he made his way to the room. She smiled as she followed him.

He flung off his shirt and wriggled out of both his trousers and boxers before she could even reach into her suitcase. She noted that he already had a massive erection, ensuring that this would be even more deliciously torturous than she'd planned.

She took off her own clothes until she wore only her bra and knickers. She held the bottle of oil as she climbed on the bed. "So this massage oil. It's got some potion ingredients that are supposed to relax just about every muscle." Every muscle except for the ones they'd need _after_ the massages.

"Sounds good to me," he said, smiling.

She glanced at the giant, hard cock practically waving at her. No, this wouldn't do. Much too easy for her to slide over him, run the tip along her… no. "Turn over," she demanded. He chuckled as he obeyed.

This view of him was just as tantalizing—the flex of his firm arse, the cut of blade and muscle in his shoulders, the adorable dimples settled into his lower back, all covered with smacks of freckles. But at least the temptation of mounting him was out of the way.

She decided she may as well forgo all her clothing as well, and slipped off her remaining underthings. She rubbed a bit of the oil in her hands, warming it.

"What is taking so bloody long?" Charlie grumbled.

Hermione laughed. "My, you're grumpy, aren't you?"

"Just ready to fuck you through the mattress," he said, his voice still gruff.

"Well, calm down with that, then. It's going to be a while before we get to that part."

He groaned and she giggled at the sight of him fidgeting his hips, no doubt trying to move his cock into a less torturous position.

She straddled his hips and set to work on his shoulders, using the sides of her palms to slide over his muscles. She found a few knots to work through, and soon, she heard him sighing, his whole body sinking into the bed, the results of the oil working its magic. She moved down his back, and she felt him stiffen just a touch as she ran her thumbs on his hips.

"Did I mention this oil is edible?" she said, her voice cheery.

He groaned and shifted his hips again. She stifled her laugh and leaned down to lick one of his dimples. His breath hitched. She grazed her teeth along it, and there was an unmistakable, low moan that time.

"Charlie," she said. "I think I've found one of your erogenous zones."

"Fuck," was all he could say.

She massaged all the way down his legs, noting the spots where he tensed, realizing they were probably the most sensitive. She lowered her lips to the backs of his thighs, leaving open-mouthed kisses all along them. He didn't even try to muffle his moans.

She pushed herself to the side. "Turn over," she ordered.

He did, and she nearly gasped at how huge and veined his cock looked. Gods, she needed to hurry it up.

She straddled him again, keeping away from the appendage, and poured the oil on his chest. She rubbed it into his pectorals and abs, admiring how they now glinted in the low light of his room. She worked into this side of his arms, too, then deeply into his forearms and hands, knowing the muscles there were probably constantly sore from his work. Just as he started to relax, closing his eyes, she placed his finger into her mouth. He blinked his eyes open and as she slowly sucked.

"Bloody Merlin's _fucking_ bloody hat, Hermione," he said, his voice rocky.

"Another erogenous zone," she shrugged as she shifted a little, lowering her mouth to his nipple. She felt him thrust up behind her as she licked, and then sucked, hard. "Fuck," he said, throwing his head back. "Fuck. Fuck." She repeated on the other side, and his curses got much more elaborate.

She lowered her body, letting his erection slide along her belly. He cursed some more as she carefully licked each side of the 'v' at his hips. He gasped as she finally grabbed his cock, sliding the oil over it. "Oh, gods," he whimpered. She licked the tip, swirling her tongue over it, and she knew he was trying as hard as he could to not pump into her mouth.

She took him deeper slowly, pausing at every half inch or so. He fisted the comforter of the bed when she lowered herself completely, the top of his cock at her throat. She moved up and down slowly, hallowing out her cheeks to enhance the suction. He was so quiet, she wondered if it was alright, but when she glanced up, she saw his head thrown back, his eyebrows tensed up, eyes closed, breath fast. Seems like it's good for him, she chuckled, and the vibrations of her voice made him yelp.

"I'm gonna come," he warned after a few more minutes of vigorous sucking. She nodded and slammed into him harder and faster, cradling his sack.

He arched his back and yelled out when it happened, the hairs on his legs standing straight up. She gently slowed until he put his hands on her head, stopping her. She released him with a pop and swallowed.

She smiled as she watched his head drop back on the pillow. He seemed to want to say something, but nothing came out. He lifted his hand as though to touch her, but let it fall on the bed before long. He was like a mass of sculpted jelly.

Finally, he looked at her. "Your fucking turn, Granger," he growled.

XXX

Hermione sighed deeply for what seemed like a millionth time. Charlie had already rubbed her entire backside to utter bliss. She was somewhat disappointed he hadn't tasted the oil, yet, but once the potions began to sink into her muscles, she realized she had nothing to complain about. The massage made her feel lighter than a pygmy puff- a state she could certainly get used to.

He roughly flipped her over so she was front-side-up. "You could've asked me to turn around," she laughed.

"I'm not a patient man," he shrugged, winking. He spilled some of the oil over her chest. She gasped when he ran his fingers over her breasts and up her chest. He leaned down and kissed both sides of her neck, causing goose bumps to form all over her upper body. Her nipples hardened as well, which didn't escape his attention. "Erogenous zone," he announced proudly, and she rolled her eyes.

"The neck is so _obvious_ ," she said.

"Bloody cheeky witch," he chuckled. "I'm going to make you pay for that." His eyes twinkled.

"Well, I certainly hope you put a little more effort into payback than into finding all my zones."

He grinned wildly, causing her stomach to flip. "I'm going to make you pay for that, too." He bent and licked her nipples achingly slow. She let out a series of gasps.

He licked his lips when he pushed up. "How did you know I'd like strawberries and cream?"

She shrugged and opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, scraping with his teeth. She knew she was drenched between her legs already. When he repeated on the other side, she grabbed his hair and pulled, arching her chest into his mouth deeper.

"Nipples are obvious, too," she gasped when he released her.

"What about here?" he said, lifting her breast. He slid his lips on the sensitive skin under it, and she gasped.

"That's—" she whispered. "That's—oh, gods—"

He was now sucking, leaving what she was certain would be a decent-sized hickey before they were through. "Fuck," she hissed. He licked his way over to her other breast, repeating the motion. By now, she was hoping she hadn't soaked the bed.

He settled his mouth on the space between her breasts, sucking there. She could only let out a series of whimpers as he lapped at this erogenous zone, one she never realized she had. When he lifted his mouth, she gazed down at his smirk. "Better." It was the only word she could manage to say.

He reached down and threw her legs open, giving her clit one hot, slow lick. She jerked her hips up and moaned loudly.

"Calm down, love," he said, then nipped her belly, leaving a long series of kisses from hip to hip.

"Fuck, Charlie," Hermione said, her clit _aching_ for more attention. "Please," she added.

"Please, what?" he asked innocently before giving her hipbone a suck.

"Please lick me."

"You're going to have to be much more specific."

"My clit. Suck my clit, for fuck's s—" she finished her sentence with a moan as he wrapped his mouth around it, giving her several hearty sucks before releasing it once more. She moaned in frustration.

"I thought you said the clitoris was too obvious," he said, resting his head on her thigh.

"Not _too_ obv—" she said, gasping. Then she smacked his head. "This is just payback, isn't it?"

He shifted his head so his lips just grazed her clit. "Yes," he said, flicking his tongue over it once, twice, three times.

"Charlie, I'm so _close_ ," she whined, thrusting her cunt to his mouth.

He chuckled and moved the scruff of his cheek over her. "As I recall, you like that, yeah?" She yelped and ground her pussy into his face more, screeching as she felt his beard scrape against _everything_. By now, she was hyperventilating.

"Please," she said, her voice shaking. He wrapped his mouth around her and slipped his hands under her arse, lifting her into his mouth in hard thrusts as he swirled his hot, went tongue on her.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. She could only curl her toes as wave after wave of agonizing pleasure came over her. She could feel her clit _palpitating_ against his tongue. Finally, the last, strongest orgasm arrived, and she took a breath and screamed, pulling his face closer to her. When he pulled up, she thought she'd see a smug expression, but there was only lust. He climbed over her and, without hesitation, sank inside.

"Oh, gods," she moaned.

He groaned, pausing as her cunt as it continued to spasm all around him.

" _Now_ I'm going to fuck you through the bed," he announced, and proceeded to do exactly that.

XXX

Afterward, as they lay, limbs all tangled together, slick from oil and sweat, Charlie started running his fingers through her hair. "What happened between you and Ron?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him, startled. He stared back, his body lazy, his tone serious.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Finally, she said, "I'm scared of everything, Charlie. Like I told you before. And Ron, he—he got tired of waiting for me to stop being afraid." It was the nicest way to say that Ron had decided that, after she postponed the wedding for the fourth time, she mustn't not really want to marry him. But she did. In theory. She had, a lifetime ago. If only the paralyzing fear weren't in the way.

Charlie pulled her close to him, so close they were almost nose-to-nose. "You don't have to be afraid of anything with me," he said, his voice soft and raw.

"I know," she whispered. And she rested her head on his arm as he wrapped the other one around her. He cut the lights with a wordless spell and they both drifted to sleep.

* * *

 _Thanks so much to Red Garden Gnome, xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Discus17, Ren Mashiro, and lareepqg for all the meal suggestions! You guys are so awesome. I had a difficult time choosing one, but in the end, I went with Ren Mashiro's suggestion of paella- Ren said there'd have to be an interesting story behind it, and I sort of needed to find out what that story was. But I loved all the food you guys came up with, so much so that I figured out a way to include it in the story that was also true to the characters. I wish I could crowd source you all on ALL my writing projects! You're amazing!_

 _So this is turning out to be a lot longer than I thought. Ah, well! I'll probably update again next weekend, when my husband can keep my toddler from trying to climb my shoulders and smash various objects at my head when I'm trying to write._

 _I hope you all enjoyed this lemony lemon! Even though we're nearing the end, there's at least two more lemons ahead- maybe more! I'll try to squeeze them in when I can, because I know I always appreciate it when I'm reading stories on here._

 _Have a great week!_


	16. Chapter 16

Late morning, Hermione awoke to the fall of light warming her arms. She turned over, stretching, and met the blue-green eyes of Charlie, gazing directly at hers.

"Morning," he said, grinning.

"Good morning." She threw her head back and stretched some more, grunting when her back cracked.

Charlie's hand instantly found its way to her breast. "I like it when you moan like that," he said, lazily running his thumb over her nipple.

She grabbed his hand and tossed it his way. "We can't, Charlie," she said. "I'm so sore."

He frowned, letting his fingers graze her shoulder. "Last night, when I got a little carried away. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No; not at all. My body just needs a break from shagging like pygmy puffs. Just for a day. I should be good tomorrow."

"Ah," he said, kissing her hand.

"Sorry to ruin your morning."

He chuckled. "That's a joke, right?" He pulled her to his chest, wrapping his warm arms around her tight. "Do you know how long I've wanted this? You, waking up in my bed, your hair wild like a Hibredian Black's."

"Mmm," Hermione said as he rubbed small circles into her shoulders. "Since we first shagged?"

"Not quite," he said, his voice quiet.

"Before that?" She pushed up, facing him.

He gave a little nod, but before she could question him anymore, he rolled out of bed. "Care for a bath? For all those sore… muscles?" He gave her that wild, wicked grin of his and she couldn't help but smile back.

"That sounds amazing, actually."

"I've got all the bath potions for aches and pains. For work recovery. Let me draw it. We'll take one together."

"Mm," she responded as she watched the hard muscles of his arse as he walked toward the bathroom.

"You like it hot?" he called.

"Not too hot. But I do like it steamy."

She listened as he drew the water and tossed bottles about. "Ready," he called after a few minutes.

Hermione tiptoed in, smiling wide at the sight of Charlie up to his chest in bubbles. Fuck, if he didn't look like the sexiest, tastiest hunk of a dragon tamer she'd ever seen. She climbed in the tub and lowered her body, groaning all the while. "Gods, that feels so good." She let her head rest against side of the tub.

She felt something telling brush her legs as she spread them over his. "Charles Weasley," she said, her eyes still closed in bliss. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Hey," he said lifting his hands. "You're the one moaning like that."

He blew a bubble her way, and she caught it in her hands. "Moaning like what?"

"Naked."

She laughed. "How else am I supposed to take a bath?"

He leaned his head back and smiled with half-lidded eyes. "How many children do you want, Hermione?"

Oh! Well, that seemed to come out of nowhere. "Uh—" she took a breath. "You know, when I first met your family, I decided I really wanted a whole school of babies. But then Ginny started having them, and I got to babysit James and Albus for extended periods of time." She laughed. "I realized, hmm, maybe two." She smiled. "More than one, though, for sure, since I hated being an only child."

He held his hand to his chin, looking at her, once more, as though she were revealing some great secret of the universe. He nodded after a few moments. "Two is a good number."

"That's how many you want? Two?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Haven't really had much reason to think of it until late."

She blinked in response. Then she blinked again, this time more slowly. He winked, stretched his arms and asked, "What do you want to do today, love? Since fucking is off the menu."

She took a breath. "Well, we have that dinner tonight, still, with your co-workers, right? Maybe we can visit downtown. I was researching and there's this really old bookstore—"

"The Moor Mountain Book Nook?"

"Yeah! It sounds really lovely."

He laughed. "Why am I not surprised that Hermione Granger's first shopping request is the only bookstore in town." Before she could offer a rebuttal, he continued. "I'll take you there, show you some of the stores on that strip. Most of them sell cheap tourist rubbish, but there's a decent shop here and there."

"Okay, Tour guide Weasley," she smiled, poking his abs with her toes. "It's a date."

XXX

"Bloody hell, woman," Charlie said as she piled another five books in his arms. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Oh, please. Says the man who wrestles dragons for a living." Hermione stuck out her tongue and turned to examine a pile of ancient books that reached the ceiling. She ran her fingers over the spines, reading the gold and bronze and copper-script of their titles.

"You know, I do a lot more than wrestle them," he said, leaning against a bookshelf that curled in on itself like a spiral.

"I know," she smiled. "You're taking me to see them, right? When?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "There's a special gal I want you to meet."

"It wouldn't be Rama, would it?"

He chuckled. "Lucky guess."

"It's my only guess, Charlie. I don't know any other names of your dragons."

"Well, I'm in charge of Rama, Henry, Beetle, Athena and Boo. And a few others, but those are my main kin."

"Weird," she said, picking up a book. "This one's on the art of cooking dragon meat."

"What?" Charlie snapped. "Give it here." He tossed it on the book pile on the crook of his arm. "We're going to buy and burn that piece of shite."

Hermione stifled a giggle at his passion (gods, he was sexy when he lost his temper), and continued to comb her way through the store. He followed her like a puppy, carrying her books without complaint until they reached his holding limit of twenty-five. By the time she finished and paid for the books, the evening shadows were long.

"We spent so much bloody time in that bookstore, almost all the shops are closing up for the evening," Charlie said, slinging the load of jute shopping bags over his shoulder. He winked when she narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, hush it," Hermione said. "Look, that one's still open." She grabbed his hand and pulled him into Ye Olde Dragon Hoarde.

Charlie dropped off the book bags at the counter so he could walk with her free-handed. "About broke my back," he joked with the shopkeeper. Hermione rolled her eyes and wandered about, right into a stunning jewelry display.

"Oh gods," she said, bending to inspect the jewels more closely. "What is that, agate? Tourmaline?"

Charlie joined her side, hand on the small of her back. "It's a stone exclusive to the Moor mountain range." He pointed out the window at the snowcaps. "Named dragonite. For obvious reasons." He chuckled.

"It is so beautiful." Hermione noted the luminous sparkle in the teal gemstone. Some of them were nearly as bright as Charlie's ocean eyes. "Ooh, those ones are really cool." She pointed at the chunks of raw stone set in green gold.

"The ones that aren't cut and polished, they actually glow in dim lighting. They look like dragon eyes at dusk. Really something else."

"That one's my favorite," Hermione said, pointing at a pendant made of carved leaves that held up a raw dragonite chunk.

"Want to handle it?" the shopkeeper asked, approaching.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Hermione said, having already noted the rather obscene prices.

"Go on." The shopkeeper opened the case with his wand and levitated the amulet to her hand.

She folded her fingers over it. "It's so pretty," she said.

"Take it to the window," the shopkeeper said. "Hold it up in the light."

She did so, gasping when the stone caught glow, like something lit a green-blue candle inside it. "That is the most gorgeous piece of jewelry I've ever seen in my life." Remembering the cost, she quickly handed it back to the shopkeeper. "Really lovely," she said, in a tone indicating she would not be purchasing the piece.

"You ready to go, love?" Charlie asked after they wandered around the store some more.

"Yeah," she smiled. "We have to be at your friends' soon, right?"

"Another twenty or so. We can take a little walk beforehand."

He held the door for her and wrapped his hand in hers. "It's so beautiful here," Hermione noted. The windows in the apartments above the shops had all turned gold with interior light, and wisps of wind kept blowing through the trees, causing red and orange leaves to rain upon them.

He said nothing, just kept looking and smiling at her goofily.

"So what should I expect at a dinner hosting by a dragon keeper?" Hermione asked, swinging his arm.

"Here's the thing about dragon keeper gatherings," Charlie said. "They're always too much food, too much drink. And lately, there's been too much dancing."

"Dancing? Like, what kind?"

"Salsa, bachata, merengue." He shrugged.

She stopped. " _Salsa_? Did I hear that right?" Before he could respond, she took a look at his hands. "Charlie," she said. "Where are my books?"

His eyebrows dropped along with his jaw, and he promptly turned and took off. Hermione chuckled, jogging after him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she called. "Couldn't handle carrying a few books a moment longer, eh?"

"So bloody cheeky," he called back. He soon left her in the dust and she slowed to a walk. He appeared about five minutes later, lugging the bags over his shoulders, hunched over and groaning as though he were in a great deal of pain. Hermione laughed, took out her wand and performed a spell of weightlessness on the load.

They stopped by his house to drop off the books, then he turned to her. "Ready for the time of your life?"

"I'm ready to see you salsa dance," she responded. He grinned, grabbed her hand and they apparated with a loud clap.

* * *

 _Apologies for the late and shorter chapter! I'm loving all of your responses and reviews; you guys are just lovely. I didn't realize Charlie danced until I wrote it out, so I'm super interested to see how that goes! What do you guys think: would Charlie be good at it or no?_

 _Thanks so much for reading._


	17. Chapter 17

When Hermione opened her eyes, she found herself at the beginning of a path that led to a red tile-roofed adobe with turquoise accents. It looked like something that belonged on the coast of California, not in the Dragon Moor Mountains of Romania.

Charlie grabbed her hand and walked up, giving the weathered door a heavy knock.

It burst open almost immediately, and a silver-haired lady bounded out. "Charlie!" she screamed, embracing him, then pulling back to kiss his cheek. "Is this her? The one?" The woman grinned as Charlie nodded, clutching Hermione in a Molly-reminiscent hug. "Ohh, I'm so happy to meet you."

"Uh, you, too," Hermione coughed, and the woman released her hug. "Sorry about that. You're British; hugs aren't a thing for you, are they? Well, I'm from Cuba. It's a little different over there." She laughed as she explained it, and Hermione got the feeling she'd repeated that sentiment a lot on the reserve.

Hermione was just about to say she was fine, but the lady had already wrapped an arm around her shoulder and lead her inside. "Paulo," she called to a fellow in the kitchen. "La bruja que Charlie ama esta aqui."

The man levitated several pots of food into the dining room table and wiped his hands on his towel. "Ah, let me see." He walked over and tossed Hermione into his arms, as well, kissing her cheek. "Look at you," he said. "Charlie, you didn't say she was morena?"

"You didn't ask," Charlie said as Paulo gave him a hug.

"Everyone's out back." The lady said, pointing.

"What's your name, again?"

"Oh! Forgive me. I'm Anna Hernandez, that's my husband Paulo." She'd already guided Hermione to the back yard, which was filled with lanterns and fairy lights. Hermione gulped. And filled with _people_ , at least twenty or so.

Anna had lifted her wand and performed a spell which heightened her voice. "Everyone, Charlie's here. With…" she paused.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione supplied, her voice getting sucked into the magic and ricocheting around the yard.

There was a bit of a gasp in the crowd, and someone near Anna's wand said, " _The_ Hermione Granger?" which, too, was picked up into the sound-amplifying charm.

Hermione's cheeks burned as the party erupted, with about half the folks gathering around to throw her into a hug, or to thank her for saving their muggleborn lives, or to request an autograph, or to ask questions like, _So what's Harry Potter really like?_

After about ten minutes of this, Charlie came 'round to save her. "Alright," he said, taking her hand. "Let me have my witch for a few minutes, yeah?"

He pulled her inside and put his hands on her face. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, her breath going rather fast. "Yeah. I mean, I should be used to that by now, right?"

He furrowed his brow at the tremble of her hand. "Bloody hell, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I'd completely forgotten about that part of your life. I didn't even think to tell anyone beforehand."

Hermione was pleased that Charlie cared so little for her fame, which helped her to calm down some. "I'll be right back," he said, squeezing her hip and heading to the backyard.

Hermione wanted to follow, but it was just so beautifully quiet inside, she decided to walk around a bit first. The walls were filled with magical artworks. Gold and black and red ochre lines appeared on the canvases, transforming into different paintings of animals and symbols.

"Those are of the paintings that were discovered inside some caves in the mountains," Paulo said, approaching.

"Oh, wow," Hermione breathed. "They're so beautiful."

"And ancient. Made something like 17,000 years ago."

She could hardly wrap her mind around that, watching the colors and shades in one transform from reindeer to bison to pegasus.

"Hey, amor," Paulo said. "You want to help me with moving some of this food out there?"

"Sure," she said.

"You ever had a Cuban feast before?" he asked as they approached the dining room table.

Hermione wracked her brain. "No, none that I know of. But it smells incredible."

"That's pork," he said, pointing at the dishes. "Pollo, black beans, arroz, maduros, camarones enchilado." He gestured to the other end of the table. "Y maduros, tostones. We have to make both because those fucking dragon keepers can't decide which one they like best. And here we have grilled onions and peppers…" he listed several more sides. "Ready to move it out?" he finally said.

Hermione nodded as her stomach rumbled. She grabbed a wide, ceramic bowl filled with what looked like fried bananas (she couldn't keep up with the Spanish names of things, as gorgeous as they sounded), and picked up her wand with the other hand, levitating a line of food toward the back door.

After settling the dishes to a rustic buffet table, Anna announced that everyone could eat. Charlie put his hand on her back as he guided her to the buffet line, where she had some pleasant small-talk with a couple dragonologists named Jasper and Kiara. She noticed folks giving her sideways glances, as though they were afraid to look directly at her, and she wondered if Charlie had given them a stern talking-to about approaching her. How embarrassing—she'd have to ask him about it later.

At the end of the buffet table, Anna was using her wand to make dozens of mojitos at once. Hermione grabbed two before heading to the table Charlie'd picked out for them.

The first thing she did when she sat was down one of the drinks.

"Watch it, Granger. Or else I might have to carry you home." Charlie's eyes twinkled as he laughed.

"It's one drink," she responded, grabbing the next. Gods, these were delicious.

"There's a lot more rum in them than it seems. Give it a minute." He gently pried the second from her hands.

She felt a wave of irritation come over her. First, presumably talking to everyone about her, now this? She wondered if this was why Charlie didn't generally do long-term, from what she gathered from family gossip. Maybe his girls got sick of being treated like children.

She tried to shrug it off, focusing instead on the drum beat of the reggaeton song playing from some magical system all around them. "When's the dancing?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Oh, after a bit more alcohol."

Right, the alcohol she wasn't allowed to drink more of. She sighed and set to work on her food, wordlessly, which turned out, perhaps, to be most delicious she'd ever had in her life. This cheered her up immensely, and she wondered if her annoyance toward Charlie came from "hanger" more than anything else.

"Which do you prefer?" she asked Charlie, pointing to both sorts of plantains, remembering what Paolo had said.

"Maduros," Charlie responded. "The sweet ones."

Hermione laughed when she took a gander at his plate—the sliced, dark-fried "bananas" took over more than half of it in a great big pile. "Guess I should've just checked," she said, smiling.

"Here," Charlie said, handing her drink back. "I was afraid since we hadn't ate for a while, it'd go straight to your head."

"Thanks, Dad," Hermione responded, taking a sip.

Charlie laughed, but she could see some sort of worry at the corner of his eyes. Weird, she thought.

Paulo and Anna joined them after a few more minutes. "Hermione, how do you like it?" Anna asked, gesturing to the food and drink.

"Oh," Hermione said. "It's the best thing I've ever had. Ever. Right next to your Harvest lasagna."

"I almost forgot about that! You liked it? I need to get you the recipe, eh?"

"Please," Hermione said. She glanced around as folks began to partner up and dance in the little courtyard lined with little red lanterns. "So, this is what it's like to party at the Romanian reservation, huh?"

"It didn't always used to be like this," Anna said. "Remember, Charlie?"

"Used to be about a dozen bottles of firewhisky at the pub," Charlie responded, chuckling.

"What happened?" Hermione asked.

"Them," Anna said, gesturing to the dancers. "We started hosting internships from Latin America and the Caribbean. Those are Keepers-in-training from Argentina, Cuba, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, Venezuela y… where's Carlos from, again? Chile? Chile. All of a sudden, Paulo and I weren't the only Latinos here." She laughed. "We started doing this, for them, but then the regulars," she gestured to Charlie, "decided it was a lot more fun."

"We kept crashing the parties," Charlie said, sipping his mojito. "Finally, Anna and Paulo got the hint and started inviting us outright."

"Oh, we invited you from the beginning," Paolo said. "Pero you were afraid of the dancing."

"Speaking of which," Anna said to Charlie. "Bailar con ella! Show her some moves."

Charlie grunted, pushing to his feet. He offered her his hand. "Care to dance?" he asked.

"If you'll teach me," Hermione said, smiling, taking his hand.

He swirled her to the courtyard, where an incredibly fast song was playing. "So this is merengue," Charlie said. "It's one of the easier ones." He put her arm on his shoulder and put his other on her waist. "The footwork, see, it's just a two-count. Mirror mine."

She looked down and lifted her feet along with his. She found it was rather easy, and she smiled up at him. After glancing at the other dancers, she said, "I feel like we're going a little slow."

"Just so I can show you. You ready to go to the beat?"

She nodded and he pulled her close, speeding up their steps. "Want me to turn you?"

He lifted his arm to let her spin and pulled her close again. She noticed his upper body scarcely moved at all. "You seem a little stiff," Hermione remarked.

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. "I'm terrible at this, Hermione. I was trying to fake it to impress you, but…"

"He can't move his hips," a trainee named Elena laughed beside them as she danced with Carlos. "Look at him. Even the dragons are smoother."

"Come on, Elena," Charlie said, his eyes twinkling. "You know I just broke my hip."

"Oh, I like that you blame it on the broken hip," Elena laughed. "Don't let him fool you, Hermione. His hips are like a green plantano. No give."

"You could probably thank Goose for stepping on you like that," Carlos said. "Probably the first time either one of your hips did a sway."

Hermione laughed as Charlie playfully narrowed his eyes. "I think you're doing great," she said, smoothing her hand on his arm.

Charlie laughed. "You don't have to be so nice, Hermione. We all have our weaknesses," he said loudly in Carlos' direction, who gave him the finger, laughing.

The music changed abruptly, to something slower and sultry. "Ah, salsa," Charlie said. "If you thought I was stiff with merengue…" he trailed off, signaling to Paulo. "A little help here, mate?"

Paulo walked over and swept Hermione away from Charlie. "Oh!" she said as he spun her around.

"Just don't let her fall in love with you," Charlie said.

Paolo laughed. "Ah, Charlie, por favor," he said. "La mujer te ama."

Charlie backed away to the sidelines, his cheeks pink with a very pleased smile on his face. Hermione was in the middle of thinking she'd have to ask him what Paolo said when Paolo spun her around again.

"You're a natural, mamita," Paolo said.

Hermione didn't feel she was as much as a natural as Paolo, fantastic dancer that he was, did almost all the work for her. He led her all around the floor and she couldn't help but smile, thinking that dancing salsa—and not embarrassing herself— was perhaps the last thing she thought she'd be doing on this holiday. She yelped when he put his hand on her waist, dropping her backwards for a dip.

"Warn me next time," she laughed, hitting his shoulder.

"Okay. One more coming up here. The song is ending." At the final drum beats, Paolo gave her a long, low dip, one in which she had to hang on to his neck.

"Perfect!" Paolo declared when he pulled her up again. She was startled at how close she was to him, figuring this was probably the reason there were so many romance films featuring Latin dancers. "You need to teach that man of yours how to move," Paolo told her when Charlie walked up, putting his hands between them.

"Alright, alright," Charlie said. "Enough with the sexy Dominican accent, Paolo."

Hermione and Paolo laughed. "Un momento," Paolo said as Charlie made to lead Hermione back to their table. "Don't know if anyone's told you yet, but we changed Rama's schedule."

"How come?" Charlie asked.

"She's doing really good, Charlie, don't fret. She ate a little too much a couple days back. Upset her stomach. We decided to wait to collect until today, give her a break."

Charlie frowned. "That means…"

"Yes."

"You're leaving now?" Charlie asked.

"In about fifteen. You coming?" Paolo nodded at Hermione, but the gesture was meant for Charlie. Hmm, she wondered. What are these two up to?

She needn't wonder long. Charlie turned to her. "Hermione. Care to meet a dragon tonight?"

Hermione blinked. "Yes! Of course!"

Charlie and Paolo grinned. "Come on," Charlie said. "Let's get our coats."

* * *

 _So, the overwhelming response was that Charlie definitely couldn't dance. I've had some experience with trying to teach muscular fellows how to dance, and since most of them lead their body movements with their shoulders, the most difficult part is getting them to loosen up at the hips. So I applied this to Charlie, though emnelly13 did say that Charlie would teach Hermione a thing or two- I thought footwork would be best for her lesson!_

 _I almost never see Latinx characters in HP FF, so when they started coming in, I totally went with it. This party is based on the dances I used to go to as a teen. Paulo's moves are based on a chap named Manuel who was the BEST salsa dancer I'd ever partnered with._

 _So, my updates are going to slow down just a touch with my fics on here. I've been aiming for once a week, but it may be every 1.5 or 2 in the coming weeks. I've got an original manuscript to finish by the end of next month, and I keep writing FF a way of avoiding all the difficult parts of that project, but I need to dedicate more time to it! I know I keep saying it, but we are nearing the end! It will be very sweet and satisfying, I hope._

 _And yes, we're finally going to meet a dragon! I've been imagining this next scene for ages, so I hope it turns out alright!_

 _Thanks to everyone who's hung in there, and I thank you in advance for your patience._

 _Your comments regarding the jewelry were hilarious! You guys crack me up. Yes, Charlie's so obvious, isn't he? He's a Gryffindor; what can I say._

 _Oh, and there isn't going to be an intervention or anything re: Hermione and the drinks. I'm not going to let things get too heavy._

 _Curious: ¿Tengo yo algunos lectores Latinos?_

 _One last bit: I've started a new fic called "The Lemon Tree." I'm sure you can guess as to its content. Pop on over and read a hot (if I do say so myself) pairing of Theo and Hermione. Let me know if you have any pairing requests over there._

 _You guys are awesome! Thank you for reading!_


	18. Chapter 18

_This chapter will be the heaviest it will get. TW for a rough (consensual) sex scene towards the end._

* * *

When Hermione opened her eyes up from apparition, it was so black, she had to blink for a few moments just to make out some shadows. She glanced up at the sliver of moon to orient herself. As she followed the moonlight to its settling places, she could see the tall silhouettes of trees, all around them.

"Hermione, you alright?" She turned and saw the dark shapes of Charlie and Paolo behind her.

"Yeah," she said as Charlie took her hand.

"This way," he said, pulling her along a path.

As they walked along, some peach flowers at their feet lit up, as though someone had filled them with a few fairy lights. Like a line of dominoes, the flowers lit beyond them all in a row, and soon, the path they were on glowed from either side. Hermione felt like she was walking down the aisle at a forest wedding.

"For most of the dragons, we have to make caves for them. Some like stone, some like earth. Rama, though." Charlie chuckled. "She likes to sleep outside."

"Wild woman," Hermione smiled.

They walked for some minutes, until they came upon a form. Here, the flowers lit up all around it, so Hermione could only see the dimly-lit sharpness of a claw here, or a few smooth scales there. As they got closer, she heard Rama's long, slow breaths, punctuated with the swirling smoke at her exhale.

"Alright, Hermione, you wait here," Charlie said when they were about twenty feet away. "I'll need to tell her you're coming first, see if she's up for it."

Hermione nodded, as he and Paolo approached the dragon. Charlie bent to talk gently in her ear while Paolo put a hand on her head. She stirred and opened her eyes. Hermione gasped—Charlie wasn't exaggerating that they glowed in dim lighting. Rama's eyes were the orange of a flame, and after a moment, they settled right on Hermione.

Charlie made a motion for Hermione to join him. She did so slowly, not wanting to startle Rama, whose eyes remained on her as she approached.

"Don't they spit fire, like, from fifty yards away?" Hermione whispered.

"Most of them do. But like I said." Charlie smiled. "Rama's a special girl." Rama gave a purr at Charlie's words, the vibrations of which Hermione could feel in her chest.

Hermione felt a wave of fear as Rama continued to stare. The beast's head was the length of a door! But the fear began to wane as Charlie beckoned her to touch Rama's head. Hermione reached slowly, at first stroking her scales with the tips of her fingers. Rama's eyes hooded sleepily as Hermione placed her palm down and patted her gently. Charlie nodded toward Paolo, who pulled out his wand and turned up the flower light that surrounded them.

Now she could see Rama's features much more clearly. Her skin was the color of red ochre, similar to the cave paintings she saw in Paolo's home. Her scales looked like mother of pearl in the light, giving a soft rainbow sheen. She had long, dark eyelashes that fluttered as Hermione shifted the pressure of her hand. Her eye color dulled in the brighter light, but it was no less pretty.

Several deep lines carved into her prognathic face, leading down from the corners of her eyes. "That's why she's called a Riversnout, I suppose," Hermione mused.

"Yes," Paolo said, approaching with a handful of glass vials. "But that's not the only reason why. Can you sing, Hermione?"

"Sing?" Hermione furrowed her brow at Paolo, and glanced at Charlie, who nodded encouragingly.

"Rama likes singing," Charlie explained. "But it's got to be sung to her. Not just aloud in general."

"I'm absolutely terrible—"

"She doesn't care," Paolo said. "Trust me. Anna says my voice could make birds drop out of the sky. It still works for Rama. Long as you sing to her."

"But—I don't even know—"

Charlie put his hands on hers. "Trust me, okay? Just a short song. Doesn't have to be anything fancy."

Hermione turned to Rama, who stretched lazily, adjusting her hips with a thump that trembled the earth under their feet. She sat down next to her face. Paolo sat down on the other side, handing a couple vials to Charlie, who crossed his legs next to Hermione.

"Do I start now?" Hermione asked. Both wizards nodded.

She took a breath, deciding on a lullaby her mum used to sing her when she was little.

 _I see the moon and the moon sees me_

 _Under the gaze of the old oak tree_

 _Please let the light that shines on me_

 _Shine on the one that I love_

 _Over the mountains and over the sea_

 _Out where my heart is longing to be_

 _Please let the light that shines on me_

 _Shine on the one that I love_

Rama's eyes filled with tears and began their fast migration over the grooves in her snout. Paolo and Charlie caught them with the vials, filling up a couple with just the one song. Paolo motioned for her to keep singing, and she did a couple more rounds of "I See the Moon," making sure to keep eye contact with Rama the whole while. When all the vials were filled, Paolo collected them from Charlie, placing them in a worn leather sack.

Charlie wrapped an arm on Rama's snout, bending his head. "Thank you, you gorgeous thing. That was a bloody good cry you did." Rama purred, flicking her tail so that the ground shook once more.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked. "Why did she cry? Why are you collecting her tears?"

"I can explain," Paolo said to Charlie. "You good with getting her down again?"

"Certainly. I'll meet you at the lab in a few."

"This way, Hermione." Paolo took her hand and led her a few feet from Rama and Charlie before apparating her away.

x

The reservation's potions lab was a far cry from the one in the Hogwarts dungeons. Moonlight streamed in through the open windows, and plants grew all around their paned edges. Paolo reached to one of these vines and plucked a few leaves. "Glitter leaf," he explained. "Helps us to preserve her tears."

Hermione watched as he poured the vials into a larger one and broke some of the leaves in.

"You're a potioneer?"

He nodded. "Been working here as one for almost twenty years, now." He chuckled. "Ah, now I feel like a viejo, telling you that." He noticed her puzzled expression. "Viejo. Means old man."

"Ah," Hermione said, smiling.

"When you've been working with potions long as I have, amor, you start to recognize potential in a material, even before you work with it. When Rama started crying—its' 'cause she's moved, you know, not sad—I could almost smell that magia in her tears. On that hunch, I gathered some and tested it."

He grabbed his wand and levitated the pieces of leaf out, one by one, into a towel. "You read up on the latest research on the effects of the Cruciatus Curse?"

Hermione felt a jolt in her stomach at the words and she shook her head. She could almost feel the scar on her arm tingling underneath several layers of glamour spells.

"Some British Healers have just discovered that the curse itself attacks the vagus nerve. Controls a lot in the body, but what we're interested in is when it's injured, the fight or flight responses in the victims… how do you say? It's stronger. Intensifies, that's the word. Doesn't turn off when it should."

Hermione gulped. "Like, what are the symptoms, if, say, someone's been tortured for about an hour or so?"

He looked off, narrowing his eyes. "Even a little of that torture can do a lot of damage, Hermione. We're looking at… paranoia. The feeling that something terrible is always gonna happen. Lots of unexplained phobias. Things like that. Though, of course, the researchers are interested in reversing those effects, especially for the ones for which it's too far gone. When people lose their minds, you know?"

"Like the Longbottoms," Hermione whispered. She raised her voice to ask, "But what does this have to do with Rama's tears?"

He held out his hands, smiling. "Her tears heal it. The injury from the curse. It re-stimulates the nerve right back to where it belongs. We've only tried it with one patient so far, one who was tortured by You-Know-Who firsthand. And his progress is remarkable. We're looking at something big here, Hermione.

"Thing is," he said, placing the dried leaves in a wooden container with his wand. "Some ingredients are gonna increase the tears' power. We have to do it, to learn what works, with reductive potioneering. Charlie said you had a background in it, yes?"

Hermione remembered telling Charlie about Malfoy's job offer. Her heartbeat increased and she nodded numbly.

"We're looking at hiring a dozen witches and wizards who can work with Rama's tears. The pay's good, the benefits are even better. But," Paolo sighed. "The results of this work are gonna be worth it just by themselves. I've been conducting little tests here and there. And you know what else her tears seem to be reversing, at least on the blood level?"

"Hmm?" Hermione asked, trying to calm the tremble in her hands.

He looked right in her eyes. "Lycanthropy."

Hermione gasped. "But—but that's not curable, at least, hundreds of people over hundreds of years have tried—"

"It might be curable now, Hermione." Paolo smiled. "We've just got to do a little experimenting first."

x

Hermione stared at the vial of tears, her mind and heart reeling.

A pop of apparition let her know that Charlie'd arrived. She didn't turn to face him.

"Where's Paolo?"

"He went back to Anna. Said you'd be here in a second to pick me up."

Charlie walked around, placing a hand on her arm. "You okay, Hermione?"

She finally glanced at him. Gods, why did he have to look so devastatingly beautiful right now? His hair was loose and wavy, the color of buckwheat honey in this light. His eyes, framed by those dark lashes, full of concern. The scruff on his cheeks and chin had gotten to her favorite length, just long enough to scratch in the most pleasing of ways. And his lips, Merlin, so wide and soft and gods. How she wished she could kiss him, kiss this whole freak-out away.

Instead, she took a breath. "Is this," she said, gesturing to the vial in front of her. "Is that why you had me visit you? So you could get Paolo to tell me about this job?"

He furrowed his brow. "No. I mean, well. I got the idea after you told me about Malfoy's offer. But I wanted to see you, for you to—"

"For me to just up and leave my whole life and move here? I mean, leave Harry and Ginny and the boys, my career—"

"The job you hate," Charlie said.

"The job I value," she corrected, raising her voice. "The job that gives me the opportunity to turn back hateful prejudices—"

"The job that won't let you, you mean." Charlie crossed his arms. "Did you hear Paolo? About what this can do? What it can heal?"

"What it _supposedly_ heals, Charlie. No strenuous experimentation has been done yet, to, to confirm—"

"Which is why we need you. People like you." He placed his hands on hers, drawing them out. "Brilliant, caring, hard-working. To help make the wizarding world a better place. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

"In England!" Hermione snapped her hands back.

Charlie took a step back, looking as though she'd slapped him. "Hermione, so you mean to tell me. All this time. This thing, between us, it was going nowhere?"

"What do you mean, nowhere, Charlie? Everything was great until you, you warned everyone about my emotional problems tonight, insinuated I had a drinking problem—"

"No," he said. "Ginny told me you drink a bit much when you're feeling out of sorts, and I didn't want that—"

"Everyone was great," she said, ignoring him, "until you attacked me with this _bloody_ job offer."

Charlie looked down, his shoulders dropping. "So, that's it, then? All this time, I've been just a fuck to you."

Hermione's eyes widened. " _You've_ been a fuck to _me_? I thought I was the fuck to you!"

"Right," Charlie said, chuckling bitterly. "I brought you all the way here, to see my place, my work, introducing you to my mates as my _girlfriend_. All because this is just sex to me, right?"

Hermione sighed, wringing at her hair. "Charlie. You're not just a fuck. God, you're—you're." She stopped short of it. You're everything, she thought. You are this whole world to me.

"Hermione, thing about being a dragon keeper that I learned early on? You can't hesitate. Or it could mean the end of everything." He walked to her, his ocean eyes right upon hers. "This is me, not hesitating. I want you. I want you here, with me. Is that really so awful an idea?"

She stared right back. Until she couldn't take it anymore. "I—" She took a couple steps backward. "I can't." She disappeared in a clap.

x

At Charlie's cabin, she ran from room to room, flinging her clothes and belongings into her bags as fast as she could. "Good fucking Godric," she muttered. Of course this had to end this way, she thought. The best holiday of her life, along with the best person she'd ever been with, all of it coming to a screeching, crashing, fiery end.

As she reached for the floo powder, bags wrapped all around her hastily, she felt a large, warm hand on her arm. "Oh, no you don't," Charlie growled, flinging her to face him.

"Charlie," she breathed. He reached around her and grabbed her knapsack, flinging it to the other side of the room. He kicked her rolling luggage down the hallway, tossed her purse somewhere behind him.

She put her hands on her hips, fuming. "Charles Fabian Weasley, what on earth do you think—"

And then he snogged her.

He pressed his lips to hers hard, thrusting his tongue into her mouth immediately. She froze for a second before returning the kiss, wrapping her arms around him, pulling his hair to let him know that she was still fucking pissed at him. He let out a groan and broke the kiss, their lips snapping apart loudly. He threw her coat off, pulled her sweater over her head. He shoved one of her bra cups to the side and bent to bite her nipple.

Her knees immediately buckled as he sucked much more aggressively than normal. She dragged her nails down his arms, leaving scratches through the fabric, she was certain, before she tugged his jumper over his head. He bent to scrape his teeth over her other breast as she moaned, nearly falling backward before grabbing his belt buckle.

As he kicked his trousers off, she snatched his cock in her grip as soon as it sprung out. He tried to pull her forward, but she dropped to her knees and shoved his length into her mouth.

Charlie moaned so loud, her knickers, she realized, were probably just about soaking her jeans at that point. She grabbed his hips and encouraged him to fuck her, to pummel into her throat. She wanted to feel him, every part of him, every single inch.

She stopped just to scrape her teeth ever so slightly against the underside of his cock, making him yelp like a wild animal. And maybe they were, she thought, as he pumped into her face once more. Maybe this was how uncivilized beasts fucked. Like dragons.

He grabbed his wand and with a wave, the rest of her clothing disappeared. Before she could utter a word about the loss, he guided her down roughly, spread her legs open and dropped his mouth on her sopping pussy, devouring her like a starved man.

She came instantly, her head thudding back on some piece of furniture as she arched her back. He kept licking, sucking, eating. It felt so good, it almost hurt, and within minutes, she came again, pushing her pelvis up to rock against his face.

Charlie climbed over her, but she didn't want him to have her like this. "No," she shrieked. He stopped, his face frozen on hers as she stood. She grabbed his arms, lifted him up and shoved him on the sofa as hard as she could, his cock bouncing back and forth. She leapt on him and sank him into her so fast, she nearly orgasmed for the third time.

Charlie's hands grabbed her hips and he rocked her on him like she was a rag doll. And she loved it. She loved ever moment of this sex that made their rough coupling prior appear as gentle as the skinny moon out the window. Maybe it was because her feelings for him were completely, unabashedly _raw_ \- all out in the open, all over one another. When she came again, he joined her, kissing her deeply as she screamed in her throat.

Their movements came to a stop just as abruptly as the whole enterprise had begun. And before she could stop herself, she wept into his shoulder.

"Hermione," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I hurt you, didn't I? Gods, I don't know what got into me, I just had to have you, and I thought you liked it—"

And his gentle apologies, punctuated with a few tears of his own, just made her cry harder. Because she knew then that she could never be worthy enough for Charlie Weasley. And fuck, that hurt to admit.

But when she could speak again, she didn't tell him this. She simply pushed herself so that she sat in his lap, rather than straddled it, and she showed him her forearm, whispering away the glamours.

There, in an ugly, marred pink. Mudblood.

Charlie looked at it, his eyes as sharp as daggers. "Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice feral.

"Bellatrix," she whispered. He grabbed her and pulled her into him in a desperate hug. "She tortured me with the Cruciatus Curse for nearly an hour, Charlie. I didn't realize it until Paolo explained it… but that's why I'm so fucked up." New tears ran down her face and she wiped them away, sniffling.

He pushed her back to look at her. "But Rama's tears, Hermione. They could—"

"They could, Charlie. But what if they can't? That means, that means—" she couldn't bring herself to say it.

He stared at her, unblinking, for several seconds. "I love you," he said finally.

She gasped. "What?"

"I love you. And I don't care if you don't feel it or can't say it back. I'm finished with all this… hesitation, okay? And I love you as you are. Whether or not Rama's tears work. Whether or not you live here or in London. I love you, Hermione."

She bit her lip and he pulled her back into a hug. "Don't say anything, love," he whispered. "You don't have to say anything at all."

She nodded. And he lifted up, with her in his arms, and took her to bed.

x

Hermione awoke early, when the light was still blue. She watched Charlie, his muscled arms wrapped around her so tight, his breath even and deep. She slowly unraveled herself from him, quiet enough that he stayed asleep.

She washed up, gathered her things, and borrowed a quill to write a note. She left it on his bedside and willed herself not to cry as she watched him for a few moments longer, before leaving by floo.

 _Charlie_ , she'd written. _You deserve someone who doesn't hesitate._

* * *

 _Not to fret, folks, we are still on our way to a happy ending. Just have to break it all open first before we can put the pieces together again._

 _Thanks so much, again, for your patience, support, and reviews. Again, you're amazing._

 _You don't need a dragon's tears to re-stimulate the vagus nerve. Just search for it on Google, and there are many remedies. A couple of my favorites are yoga and massage._

 _We're about two to three chapters away from the end!_

 _Hope you're all having wonderful weeks._


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione went back to work the very next day, brushing off any questions on her holiday with a smile and a bright, "It was great!" Once the door to her office was closed, leaving her alone inside, she spent much of her morning gazing out the window. To match her mood, dark clouds dulled the sky and rain slicked down the glass. If she let her mind wander toward Charlie, she could feel a distinct breaking in her chest. But no, she wouldn't cry. She'd done enough of that last night.

By afternoon, she was fully absorbed in her paperwork. And after several hours of processing forms and returning correspondence, things felt almost normal again. She was alone, yes. But technically, that was normal.

At home, she shut off her floo completely to visitors and calls alike. She knew the only folks who'd contact her would be Charlie, Harry, or Ginny. She didn't want to see any of them.

After a pleasant dinner of Japanese takeaway, Hermione took a bath and got to bed rather early. Thus began her new schedule. It more or less resembled the old, pre-Charlie one, and that was fine by her. At least, so she fiercely reminded herself constantly.

On Thursday, Clarisa notified her that she'd had a visitor.

Hermione's stomach fluttered, as she hoped it was— and wasn't— Charlie. "Who might it be, Clarisa?"

She could hear some scuffling through the Message Quill. "Oh, let me in, already," a voice commanded. "Hermione bloody Granger, you've some explaining to do." Hermione rolled her eyes. Of course Ginevra would be the first to try and break through to her.

"Clarisa, would you please tell my visitor that appointments need to be made f—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Ginny scoffed.

"Mrs. Potter," Clarisa's voice warned. "I must insist—"

The door flew open and Ginny flew inside, slamming it shut on Clarisa. Hermione sighed and reached for her coffee mug while Ginny spoke.

"You just up and left him? While he slept. Like a bloody coward!"

Hermione sipped her coffee. "You needn't remind me, Gin. It was only a few days ago."

Ginny stopped pacing, her breath heavy. "Why?"

"You mean he didn't tell you why?" Fuck, Charlie was more vindictive than she thought he'd be.

"Well, no. That was the part I missed, 'cause Bill noticed I was eavesdropping by then."

"Ginevra Weasley," Hermione said, standing up. "You mean to tell me that you came all the way here to assault my assistant and yell at me, without knowing the reason why I did what I did?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Well, when you put it that way."

"Ginny! What the fuck?"

Gin sat down, sighing. "Look. I'm really invested in you and Charlie, alright? When things didn't pan out, I felt completely out of control—"

"Out of control?" Hermione said. She glared at Ginny. "What do you mean, out of control?"

Ginny gave a look of such guilt that Hermione immediately stood. "You did this," she said. "You. You set me and Charlie up. Making sure I'd go up and get him myself that first time, at Albus' birthday party—"

"Well—"

"And talking to your mum, making her think I was playing psychotherapist for him—"

"Actually, that was Mum's idea."

Hermione froze. "Excuse me?"

"The whole thing, really. Her idea." Gin glanced up. "Oh, don't give me that look, Hermione. We thought you'd be good together. Mum's been pushing it for years, but when I saw the way Charlie looked at you that day, I realized, hey, maybe she's onto something. Maybe Hermione could be bloody happy for once."

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. This was too much. "Ginny," she finally said. "You told Charlie I had a drinking problem?"

"What? No! That was ages ago. I mean, it's something Harry and I noticed, that, when you're feeling down and, and lonely, you tend to—"

"Get out."

"Hermione."

"I'm not speaking to you on this matter any longer. And you can tell your mum to sod off, too. Fuck, Gin. You spend half your days complaining about her meddling, when you're no bloody better."

"It was only because—"

"You wanted to see me happy, right? Well, mission failed. Out."

Ginny sighed. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Out, Ginny. Maybe in a couple weeks I'll be ready to talk, but right now…" Right now she could use a bloody drink, that's what. But she didn't dare mention it. She continued to glare as Ginny left, shutting the door a bit loudly.

x

Less than a week later, while making a dent in the enormous amount of paperwork on her desk, Clarisa notified her of another visitor. "Who is it?" Hermione asked.

"It's—it's someone on the _no bloody way_ list, Ms. Granger," Clarisa whispered.

"Which one?" Hermione's spirits lifted. Charlie was the first on that list.

"It's—ah—a Mrs. Molly Weasley."

Godric fucking Gryffindor. Although she didn't know Molly as well as she knew Ginny, it was clear where Gin got her stubbornness from. Hermione was certain Molly, though a bit more polite than her daughter, would find a way to speak with Hermione, even if it meant sitting in the waiting area all day. She sighed. "Send her in."

"Of course, Ms. Granger."

"Molly," Hermione said when the door opened. She gestured at the chair in front of her desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her tone was saccharine, and she knew Molly would see right through it. But it was either that or hex her, and she wasn't about to do that. With Molly, a tiny part of her would always feel like a child next to her best friend's mum, and she couldn't bring herself to disrespect her like that.

Molly took a breath. "I believe—" she coughed. "I believe I owe you an apology, Hermione."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

"But before I extend it, I'd like to tell you something. A story, if you will."

Hermione nodded. "Certainly."

Molly took a deep breath. "Do you remember what you were doing after the Battle of Hogwarts?"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Well. I mean, we stayed at the Burrow for a few weeks before I went to Australia to—"

"No, I mean, directly after. Immediately after. When we were all still at the school, counting the living and the—" She didn't finish her sentence.

"I—uh." Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking off. "I can't recall, exactly. I remember hugging people, making sure folks found their loved ones."

"You had your little purse with the extension charm on it. And you were administering calming droughts. Remember?"

"Yes…"

"And you had tissues. The sort that continuously dry. I still have the one you gave me, dear. I must've cried hundreds of thousands of tears into it, but—but it's still dry." Molly's eyes misted some now, but she quickly blinked it away. "And you had blankets, remember? Self-warmers. They were weighted, too. You explained—"

"Weighted blankets make you feel calm and safe," Hermione finished. "Gods, I'd forgotten about those."

"I remember very clearly, Hermione. More than I should've, having just found out—" She took a shaky breath. "Do you know why?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Charlie sat next to me, comforting me. And it was very peculiar. He couldn't keep his eyes off you."

Hermione furrowed her brow once more. "Oh?"

"Finally, I asked him about it. And I'll never forget the way he looked at me, dear. There was something in his eyes, something beyond grief. Something sparkling and wondrous. And he said—I will never forget this—he said, I'm going to marry her."

Hermione froze. "Marry _her_? As in, marry—"

"You, yes. Marry you."

"I'm afraid I don't understand—"

"When Charlie saw, you, dear. Doing what you do—taking care of your friends. He fell in love. I was there, I saw it with my eyes. Of course, not a month later, you were with Ron. Which was good at the time. Charlie respected it. He kept his distance until... well, you know the story." She chuckled and took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. "I admit, in my mind, I immediately saw you both at the altar, reciting your vows. I can get carried away at times with ah, matchmaking."

Hermione barely stifled her snort.

"But, I admit, I pushed you two too far. It wasn't time. And for that, I apologize. I won't say anymore about it, for both your sakes." Molly stood, straightening her skirt. "But before I go, Hermione." She shuffled in her large purse. "I've got a new beast registration form for you, from the Romanian reservation. As well as an additional package." She placed each on the desk. "I hope to see you at the Burrow soon. We've got the gender reveal for George and Angelina this weekend."

"Right," Hermione said. "I got the invitation. I'll see what I can do."

"Good day, darling." Molly gave Hermione a sad smile on her way out.

x

Hermione waited all of five minutes to see what Molly had delivered. First, she glanced at the registration form for Rama. They were all filled our properly, though not in Charlie's handwriting, she noted. She took them out of the folder to place in her _to file later_ heap, when she noticed an extra form with a note attached.

 _Hermione_ , read the note. _I completely forgot to give these to you the night at the laboratory. If you're still interested, owl them directly back to me before the end of the month. Paolo._

Hermione lifted the message and saw a job application for potioneer. Specialty: reductive/subtractive potions. Location: Romanian Dragon Reservation, Moor Mountain. She sighed and pushed them aside.

The second package was a small and square-shaped, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied in twine. She tore it open, lifted the lid of the dark blue box and gasped.

There, nestled in silk, was the dragonite pendant she'd gone mental over in Romania, strewn with a matching chain. It twinkled in the bright lights of her office, but she turned them off with the flick of her wand. She held the pendant up in the window, through the light filtered by the dark rain clouds. There, it glowed, in that wild, bright teal that reminded her of the ocean.

She pulled the seafoam-green silk scarf from the box, checking to see if there was anything else there. A note slipped out, written in Charlie's handwriting.

 _Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one that I love._

* * *

 _Props to lareepqg for predicting that Molly was the "mastermind" behind it all ages ago!_

 _Sorry for the shorter chapter this time 'round. Sometimes I wonder if it's better to do shorter chapters/more frequent updates or longer/less frequent. But since we're nearing the end, I figured why not draw it out just a little, especially for those of you enjoying it._

 _Next chapter, we will see our favorite dragon tamer once more!_

 _Thanks so much for reading and reviewing._


	20. Chapter 20

_Ms. Hermione Granger, Head of Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,_

 _This letter is to inform you that whilst you were on holiday, the heads all voted to terminate your department's Centaur Holiday Program, on the account of its offense to general propriety. Please extend any questions and concerns you may have to the Minister._

 _We do hope you had a fine holiday. It certainly was a long one, wasn't it?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Madame Hemlay and Lentus Wells_

Hermione wasted no time in "extending" her "concerns" to the Minister. She threw open Kingsley's office door with her wand, starting with the first and most important question while waving the letter. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

Kingley, who looked as though he were mid-sentence in a meeting with a couple of witches, took a deep sigh. "Ms. Granger—"

"Mr. Minister, please, please tell me this is a joke and that I—"

"Granger—"

"—their, their audacity and nerve to meddle with _my_ department—"

"Hermione."

She stopped right then, since Kingsley so rarely said her given name. "Hermione," he repeated. "I'll stop by your office in an hour. We will do lunch, yes?"

She glanced at his bewildered guests. "Uh—sure. Excuse me." She left with her cheeks burning as she realized how rude she'd been. Fuck, would Kingsley up and fire her now?

Gods, she needed a drink.

First, though. Another mountain of paperwork.

x

"Hermione," Kingsley said after they ordered their entrees. She, unnerved by his continual use of her first name, took a long sip of ice water.

"Kingsley."

"Do you know what I was doing when I was your age?"

Hermione gulped her water. "Uh—I don't know. Auror training?"

"I was playing quidditch for a local league."

Hermione nearly choked. "Sorry, sir. I just—I never realized you played."

"Oh, yes," Kingsley said, smiling. "Was a beater. Did some seeking for a bit, but I'm just not as graceful on the broom." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "Did you know what I did after that?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I lived in Iceland for a bit. Followed a witch there, but stayed for the trees." He chuckled.

"The trees, sir?"

"There's a fascinating sport among their wizards and witches there in Selfoss. Tree-walking. It's rather dangerous, sort of like muggle tight-roping. It takes quite a bit of concentration. A Zen-state-of-mind. It really prepared me for my aurorship, truth be told."

Hermione furrowed her brow as he continued.

"After that, I went to my sister's and helped her husband's farm. Bred some new variations of mandrake, ones whose screams wouldn't be so harmful. Of course, their herbal properties weren't so potent, but years later, my brother-in-law did succeed in creating the Whisperdrake."

Hermione eyebrows shot up. "Your brother-in-law created the Whisperdrake? Bloody hell, sir, that's, I mean." She cleared her throat, realizing she'd no idea of his point thus far. "I mean, I'm not sure what you're getting at."

Kingsley smiled. "Granger, we've been working for years to rid the Ministry of all its corruption, yes?"

"Yes, well. I've tried to help the best way I could."

"Unfortunately, some of that corruption is much too subtle. Some of your colleagues are too clever to let their prejudices seep to the surface. Everyone knows of their affection for blood purity, but no one can prove it. Which has left your job less than… pleasant."

Hermione bit back a snort. Certainly that was an understatement.

"You know, Hermione, in six years, Madame Hemlay will be retired. Wells will be done this year. Both Redbook and Tucker will be finished in three years, and in less than ten, Dumond, Pretratti and Huggle will join them." He leaned back to let the server place his Monte Cristo in front of him. "And I fully intend on filling their spaces with those of open minds and hearts."

Hermione nodded, staring at her grilled chicken and vegetable platter. "That means I won't get a lick of work done—important work—for nearly another decade." She couldn't help the despondence in her voice.

"I noticed you had a job application on your desk earlier."

Hermione winced. "Oh, that. It's nothing, nothing at all, just an offer—"

"Potioneering at the Romanian Dragon Reserve? I think it's a great idea, Hermione."

She blinked. "What? Gods, you _are_ firing me, aren't you?"

Kingsley smiled. "You've been working at the Ministry since you left Hogwarts. You are the brightest or any witch or wizard I've worked beside, and the hardest-working, by far—"

"Then why are you firing me, Kingsley?" Hermione felt as though she might burst into tears.

"I'm not. Not at all. It's more like…" He stared off for a few seconds, and let his eyes return to hers. "All those things I did in my youth. Quidditch, tree-walking, farming. They all made me become a better auror and wizard. These experiences… they gave me perspective."

"You're saying my perspective is too narrow?"

"I'm saying that you're still young, Hermione. You're at the perfect age to take a broom over a mountain, to experiment with potioneering, to heal." He paused. "To make mistakes." He shook his head as she opened her mouth to protest. "Whatever you decide, in ten years' time, I want you to return to the Ministry for training."

"Training? Training for what?"

"To replace me, of course."

Hermione's jaw dropped. For the first time all lunch, she was rendered speechless.

"Your talents are being wasted here, Hermione. I, for one, know you are way too clever to push paperwork around all day. You are becoming more and more jaded every time I see you. And I can't have that for the next Minister, understand? I want you to travel, to live, to meet wizards and witches from all over. I believe the Minister of Magic ought to be wise. Variety makes one wise, Hermione."

Hermione finally found her voice. "So you're not firing me, exactly—"

"Consider it an extended training program."

"And in ten years' time—"

"I'll prepare you. Personally. And you'll run for the Minister of Magic. And, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"You will win."

x

"There you are." Harry pulled his scarf from his neck along with his coat and took a seat across from Hermione at the pub booth. She was already on her second beer.

"You're not going to lecture me on my alcoholic tendencies, are you?" she asked, fingering her mug.

Harry winced. "Hermione, no one thinks you're an alcoholic. We just worry about you when you drink alone. When you're sad."

Hermione nodded. "I haven't drunk a drop since Romania, you know. Well, not 'til now."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad you finally answered my letters."

"Yeah."

"What's going on, Hermione? What happened in Romania?"

"My Centaur Holiday Program was cancelled."

"What?" A server brought Harry his shot of firewhiskey and he took half of it in a gulp.

"The heads. They voted to cancel it while I was away. The only thing I've been able to accomplish as a deparment head. Letting witches and centaurs screw in the woods." She laughed bitterly. "Ah. It's just as well."

"Fuck. Hermione. I'm so sorry. Hemlay and Wells, and their ilk, they're just tossers. The lot of them."

"Kingsley is urging me to… to quit."

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Harry—"

"That's fucking rubbish, Hermione. I'm going to march to his office first thing tomorrow morning. You're the bloody best thing that's ever happened to the Ministry and he's fucking out of his mind if he thinks any progress is going to happen without you."

"That's the thing, Harry. No progress is happening _with_ me."

Harry blinked. "I don't understand."

She filled him in. On Romania, on Rama's tears, on the job offer. On freaking out in front of Charlie and splitting. On her lunch with Kingsley and his plans for her. And his recommendation to take the offer and just live her life.

When she was finished, Harry'd finished three shots and shook his head, a goofy smile on his face. "I always knew you'd be Minister."

"Harry…"

"Didn't I always say it? Merlin, I ought to start a pool. Although, I can't think of anyone who'd vote against you."

"Charlie, perhaps. After he's seen what a fool I am." Hermione smiled sadly as she sipped her lager.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "So that's what went down? You just got freaked over the job?"

"Well, mostly. He wanted me to move there, to Romania, to be with him. A permanent fixture." She paused when she saw Harry's eyes wandering everywhere but her face. "Why?"

"What? Nothing."

"Harry James Potter—"

"Fine!" Harry threw up his hands as a blush crept up his neck. "It's just that Ginny got Bill to tell her what Charlie told him by wand-point. And she told me because you aren't speaking to her and you know how she gets, just bursting—"

"What did Charlie tell Bill, then, Harry?"

Harry cleared his throat and signaled for another firewhisky.

"Harry!"

"He said you were sore, alright? From all the, ah, shagging."

"So what?"

"And he said you'd asked for a day to recover. But that night, he, ah, had you, and, uh. Was rather aggressive about it."

Hermione's cheeks were also pink by this point. "So what?" she said, trying to push her hair over her face.

"He said he'd hurt you. That you broke down afterward. He—he thinks he fucked it up, Hermione."

"No," Hermione said. "I was the one—he didn't hurt me, Harry, that romp was fucking incredible—"

Harry signaled for another firewhisky as soon as he finished his fourth.

"It was so raw and emotional, you know? I really felt how he cares for me, how much _we_ care for one another—"

"Mm hmm," Harry said, his cheeks beyond red now.

"I mean, I, really, for the first time, realized how in love with him I am—" She stopped right then, her eyes wide.

"You love him," Harry said, a smile creeping up his face.

"I—I mean, I care for him deeply—"

"You love him, Hermione."

Hermione sighed and threw back the remainder of her beer. "Yes. I love him. I love Charlie so much, it scares the shite out of me."

"You know what you have to do, right?" Harry gave her that sly smile of his, the implication of his question igniting a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

"Harry, I don't know if I can."

"Are you or are you not the witch you saved my and Ron's lives on numerous occasions, one of which involved riding a bloody _dragon_ out of Gringotts—"

"That was years ago, Harry!"

"Hermione."

"Fine." She lowered her eyes and met his with a smile. "I suppose I know what I have to do, don't I?"

"That's my girl."

x

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Ginny asked as she stepped through Hermione's floo, vanishing the powder from her clothes and hair.

"Well, I was invited, Ginevra. Same as you."

"Really? _You_ were invited? But you're the reason she's in this whole mess to begin—"

"Ginny, you will not speak to me in that way, as though you didn't play your part on the—"

"Ginny," Hermione said from the kitchen. "Molly? Let's not fight, okay? Please?"

Ginny harrumphed while Molly pushed herself up from the sofa and into the kitchen. "You sure you don't need any help, dear?"

"I'm sure." Hermione levitated some cake and champagne to the living room coffee table, motioning for Molly to join her and Gin.

"What's with the celebration?" Gin asked.

Hermione popped the champagne with her wand. "Let's just say we're celebrating me coming to my senses."

Molly's eyes were bright as she grinned. "I noticed you're wearing the necklace, dear."

"I am," Hermione smiled, touching the dragonite.

"What necklace?" Ginny asked, picking up her flute. "What did I miss?"

"First of all," Hermione said. "You two are the biggest meddlers of my life. Both of you have, without any permission, arranged events and gossiped behind my back—" she paused as both Molly and Ginny shrank back into the sofa, "all because you love me and want to see me happy. So although I haven't been always supportive with your efforts, I understand why you did what you did. And I wanted to thank you."

"Oh, you're quite welcome, dear," Molly said, dabbing at her eyes.

Ginny furrowed her brow as she helped herself to some cake. "What's with the whole 'you coming to your senses' thing?"

"I'm getting there," Hermione said. "Okay, I asked you both here because I have a proposition for you."

"Go on," Ginny said.

"Yes, dear?" Molly said.

"I need a little bit more meddling. Well, maybe a lot more, depending on how it all goes."

"How what goes?" Ginny asked, throwing her hands up. "You're being so bloody coy, Hermione! What's going on?!"

"Okay, okay," Hermione said, laughing. "I have a plan. And I need your help."

* * *

 _So, I thought Charlie would return for this chapter, but I was wrong! Apologies! He will definitely appear in the next._

 _Also, apologies for the later chapter. I had family visit and it's been rather chaotic._

 _For my readers in the States, hope you had a happy Thanksgiving! I'm grateful for you all._


	21. Chapter 21

_There's a little lemon squeezed toward the end, there._

* * *

Hermione sighed as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She wore an olive green sweater dress—the one she would've worn to dinner in Romania if she hadn't ran off with her bloody tail between her legs. She shook her head lightly. Be gentle on yourself, she thought. Today is about making that right.

The dress bore long sleeves and a boat-neck, stopping at mid-thigh to make way for her black stockings, the old-fashioned sort with the seam running up the backs. Another treat intended for Charlie in Romania, since the stockings were attached to a garter belt, and she wore nothing more under the dress. No bra nor knickers. She knew he would've loved it. He will love it, she corrected herself. If he'll still have her, that is.

Her hair was pinned up, with soft, tight curls escaping at her bangs and neckline. She wore little eye make-up, opting instead for a berry lip color for the focus on her face. She stepped into her black ankle-boots, after which, she only had one last accessory to put on. The dragonite necklace.

No sooner than she clasped it over her neck, did she hear Molly's voice booming up the stairs. "Hermione! They're here!"

"Coming!" She bounded downstairs, reaching the first floor of the Burrow, where she lunged herself into her parents' arms.

"Oh, my goodness," Jean Granger squealed. "That dress is adorable on you! And I love these boots."

"You look beautiful, Hermione," Peter Granger smiled, giving her a tight hug.

"How was the trip?" Hermione asked. "Were you assisted okay with the Portkeys?"

"Well, yes, after we showed them these," her dad laughed. Both held up their Ministry-Approval Cards for Muggles under Wizard Travel.

"Honestly, Hermione," her mum continued, "I wouldn't mind using those pork-keys to see you again. Sure, it feels like you're being turned inside-out in the most discomforting of ways, but it only lasts a moment and we're here in all of what, six hours? Which certainly beats the alternative."

Hermione smiled. "I'll see what I can do, Mum. But you know, they're generally only allowed in the event of a very special occasion."

"Right," Jean said, grinning. "And the _very special occasion_ today is we needed to meet this boy—"

Hermione groaned. "He's a man, Mum! For Godric's sake, I'm not sixteen anymore."

"Of course, this man, who's also Ron's brother…?" Her father let the question dangle as Molly whirled in, offering hors d'oeuvres.

"He's my second eldest, Peter," Molly said, grinning. "Handsome, intelligent, very fit from his work."

"Yes!" Jean said. "That's right. He's a dragon tamer of sorts, isn't he?"

"That's bloody awesome," her father said, clasping his hands together. "When do we get to see some dragons?"

"Peter!" Jean admonished. "Honestly."

"Apologies," he said to the women around him. "It's just—well, _dragons_ , Jean. _Dragons_."

"First, you have to meet Charlie," Hermione said, chuckling. "Then we'll see about the dragons."

Everyone stopped their chatter when Ginny ran in, screeching. "He's here!"

"What?" Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. "But we're, still, what, a half hour early?"

"Harry's stalling. No time to talk. We're onto the emergency plan. Here." Ginny threw Harry's invisibility cloak over Hermione.

"There is no emergency plan!" Hermione hissed as Ginny shoved her to the side.

"Hey, Dad? Mum?" Hermione could hear Charlie voice becoming louder. "Woah," he said, glancing up at the panicked faces of his mum, sister and her parents. "Hi, there."

"Charlie!" Molly said, recovering first. "Happy birthday!" She shoved the platter of hors d'oeuvres in Ginny's hands and threw her arms around him.

"Thanks, Mum," he mumbled.

"Your father's cooking out back. George and Angelina are already here, along with Bill and Fleur. Oh, and Andromeda made it! Isn't that brilliant? Harry's bringing the boys in just a moment, but Victoire's already chasing the gnomes with Teddy."

"Great, great," Charlie said, eyeing the Grangers. "Uh, I don't mean to be rude, but have we met before?"

"Oh!" Molly let out a hysterical giggle. "Oh, _Charlie_ , these, these are, you _know_ —"

"They're the Wilkins," Gin supplied.

"Right, right!" Jean said. "The Wilkins—"

Peter furrowed his brow. "I—I'm a little conf—"

"Remember? The surprise, dear?" Jean nudged Peter, whose eyebrows dropped in realization.

"Yes! The surprise! But this isn't a surprise party, because you, Charlie, knew there was a party ahead of time—"

Underneath the invisibility cloak, Hermione tossed her palm on her head, stifling a groan. Ginny gave a look of sympathy in her direction.

"Come on, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins," Gin said. "Let's join the others in the back."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie," Jean said, smiling.

"Happy birthday, son," Peter said, slapping Charlie's arm on the way out.

Charlie watched them with a raised brow and turned to Molly expectantly. "What's going on?" he finally asked.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked. "We're making your favorite, dear. Roast lemon pepper chicken with all the trimmings."

Charlie sighed. "I know you're up to something, Mum."

"The only thing I'm up to, Charlie, is making sure my son has the best birthday bash possible." She grinned, putting her hand on his arm.

"No offense, Mum, but unless a certain witch makes an appearance—" Hermione's heart soared with hope just as Molly interrupted him.

"Honey, weren't you looking for your old dragon educational posters?"

Charlie blinked. "Uh, yeah. A while ago, but you said you couldn't find—"

"Attic!"

Charlie gave her a look of incredulity. "What?"

"They're in the attic, dear. Why don't you run up and grab them?"

"Maybe later, Mum. I'm just not—"

"Charles Fabian Weasley!" Molly put her hands on her hips. "Think of the children! If you don't remember to bring back those posters—"

"I mean, they'll be fine, Mum. I can always order new ones."

"But they won't be as well _loved_ as the old ones!"

"Mum—"

"The children, Charlie!" Molly's voice was reaching a shriek at this point.

"Fine, Mum." Charlie threw up his hands. "Bloody hell," he mumbled as he turned toward the staircase.

"Language," Molly called in a sweet voice as he ascended the stairs.

"Sorry, Mum," he said loudly, but Hermione could hear several obscenities under his breath fade away along with his footsteps.

Molly waited a few beats and turned to the general direction Ginny had pushed Hermione. "You still there, dear?"

Hermione pulled the cloak off. "I am."

"Well, that certainly," Molly said, clearing her throat. "I mean, that certainly could have gone a bit more smoothly."

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "It was perfect. Really."

Molly gave her a hug just as Ginny walked inside. "He's up there," Molly said to Gin.

Gin threw an arm around Hermione. "So, this is it! You're going to mend his heart and recite your vows and—"

"Let's not get carried away, Gin," Hermione said, running her hands over her dress incessantly.

"You know," Ginny said. "I'm the one who wants you happy. Mum, here; she just wants grandchildren." Molly scoffed as Ginny continued. "That means your first daughter ought to be named after _me_."

"Ginny!" Molly said and paused. "I don't object to that, actually. Of course, Hermione, it's up to you and—"

"Okay, you two," Hermione said, holding a finger up. "Wait until I'm actually pregnant before planning the names of my children? Yeah? Meanwhile, I've got, to use Ginny's words, a heart to mend. Two, really, if you count mine."

Molly'd pulled out her handkerchief and was already wiping her eyes. "I'll be so proud to call you my daughter-in-law, Hermione."

"O-kay, Mum," Gin said, rolling her eyes and giving Hermione a gentle push. "Go get him. Make us proud."

x

Hermione climbed the stairs slowly, wondering if this was such a great idea after all.

"I'm a bloody Gryffindor, for Godric's sake," she reminded herself fiercely as she reached the door to the attic. It was slightly ajar and she could hear some shuffling inside. She pushed it open gently.

One side of the attic contained a large window which overlooked the woods around them. Some sofas and chairs were perched near the view. On the other side were some storage boxes and containers—things like Christmas décor, which Hermione'd imagine Molly would be retrieving within the next few weeks.

Next to the boxes stood Charlie, looking bloody fucking good in a pair of slim-fitting trousers and a cobalt blue jumper. He bent, moving some containers around, and Hermione took a long, hard look at the muscles of his arse before remembering why she was here. She cleared her throat.

Charlie grumbled something about the 'nonexistence' of the 'bloody dragon posters' while tossing another box aside. Hermione smoothed the skirt of her dress and tried again. "Uh—Charlie?"

He turned, box in hand, and nearly dropped it. "Hermione!" He settled the box down and approached her. "That you?"

"Indeed."

He was near her now, about three feet away, staring directly into her eyes. They both were silent for a few moments, then both made to speak at once.

"Let me," Hermione said, putting a hand up. "Please. Charlie." But then she couldn't find the words, the _fucking_ words she'd been _bloody_ rehearsing for _sodding_ days now and—

"Why don't we have a seat," Charlie said, gesturing to the other side of the attic.

"Right," Hermione said, nodding. "Let's."

They made their way over, where Hermione found her nervousness wouldn't allow her to sit for more than two seconds. She stood and began pacing in front of him as he leaned back against the sofa.

"I've been in contact with Paolo," she said finally. These weren't her rehearsed words, but fuck, they were words as opposed to lengthy, awkward silences, so she was going to go with it.

Charlie blinked. "Really? I mean, he hasn't mentioned anything to me."

"That's because I asked him not to. I wanted—I wanted to tell you myself."

Charlie looked at her sadly, shaking his head. "Tell me w—"

"I got the potioneer position. I'll be moving to the reserve in January."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "You—you—"

"Charlie, I know I messed things up between us. Terribly. Badly. Abysmally, even. No, no, let me finish, okay?" She grabbed his hand and held it in the space between them. "I _love_ you. I should've said it back in Romania, but I was too cowardly and I hope that you still feel for me, that you'll still have me, that you'll—that you'll marry me."

Charlie's eyes snapped up to hers. "What did you say?"

"We should—I mean, if you want—"

A smile spread across his face, so big that his eyes crinkled at the edges. "Did you just ask me to marry you, Hermione?"

"I mean, it was just a suggestion. We don't have to do anything rash or—"

But by then, Charlie had stood directly in front of her. He put his hands on her face, her waist, her hips, and pulled her close, lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her softly, gently running his tongue on her lower lip before pulling back. "Remember," he said, his voice husky. "Remember that jewelry shop downtown? Where you saw this?" He let his fingers run over her necklace.

"Yeah." She wasn't surprised to hear that she was just as breathless as him.

"When I forgot your books and ran back in? You were right, that was on purpose." He smiled, grazing his lips on hers once more before continuing. "I ran back in there and practically barked at the bloke. Nearly scared him half to death, I did. And I told him, 'please tell me you have a ring that matches that pendant, 'cause I'm blooding going to marry that woman'."

Hermione trembled as she inhaled sharply. "And did he? Have one?"

Charlie dropped to one knee. Hermione gasped as he pulled a small box out of his pocket. "Been carrying this around since, in case I randomly got the courage to find you. Wanted to give you time, though. I wanted to make sure you still wanted me."

"Of course I want you, Charlie," Hermione said, a tear running down her cheek.

"So you'll marry me?"

Hermione nodded, wiping away more tears. "Yes! Yes. Yes." He pushed the ring on her finger, stood and kissed her. This time deeply, shoving his tongue into her mouth as he clutched her hair and hip.

Hermione pulled back suddenly. "But, I might need a long engagement, okay? I still struggle, with my fears, you know, and I don't want you to think—"

"I don't care if we're engaged for twenty years, Hermione," Charlie said with a growl as he nipped her neck.

"Are you sure?" she said, her eyes rolling back as he sucked just above her collarbone.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure, woman."

She smiled as his lips lowered past her collarbone. "You should see what I've got on under this dress," Hermione murmured.

"Oh, really?" Charlie said, his hand reaching to the edge of her skirt when they heard a gasp. They both jumped apart when they glanced and saw Molly peeking in through the doorway.

"Oh, goodness! I'm so sorry to interrupt! I just couldn't wait any longer, and I wanted to see if you've made up yet, but it appears as though you have, which is just—" Molly broke into a sob. "It's more than I could dream of—"

"Mum! I told you not to—" Ginny's arms reached in as she pulled Molly away and leaned to face them. "I think you two have another twenty minutes before she marches up here again."

"Got it," Hermione called as Gin winked and closed the door.

Charlie immediately pushed Hermione's dress up to her waist, revealing her garter belt and the nothing she wore between it. "Fuck," he breathed, sitting back on the sofa, pulled her to straddle him. He shimmied down until she could feel the hot hair of his exhales hovering right over her cunt.

"Charlie," she whispered. "Do you really think—I mean, in twenty minutes—"

He responded with his tongue, causing her to grip his shoulders as her legs trembled around him. "Oh, gods," she said as he lapped up her clit, his tongue hot and wet. It didn't take very long, which wasn't exactly a shock to Hermione, considering how fucking good he was and how fucking long it'd been. He finished her off by running his calloused thumb over her clit while tongue-fucking her. She nearly broke her back arching into him, screaming as she came.

"Gods, I missed the taste of you," he groaned, pushing her back against the sofa as he unbuckled his belt.

She stared lazily at him as he pulled out his cock. "I missed you," she admitted, smiling as she opened her legs to him.

He slammed into her and groaned, pulling his length out almost completely before sinking back inside. She whimpered as he increased his speed. "I've missed everything about you," he said, his voice breaking like gravel. "Your hair, your pussy, the way you yell at me—"

Hermione laughed, causing herself to tighten around him. He gave another moan and pumped into her harder.

"What do you say, Granger?" he asked. "Think we can break a record? Make you come in three minutes, this time?

"Doubt you could," she, giving him a sly smile before yelping when he slammed into her so hard, the couch pushed back.

"That so?" he said, before reaching down to her clit with his thumb again. After bringing her right to the edge once more, he lifted her pelvis up and angled it in such a way that he slapped her clit with every thrust, coaxing an hard orgasm out and proving her utterly, utterly wrong.

"Charlie," she gasped while throwing her head back, which immediately caused him to join her release.

After a few minutes of content snuggling, Charlie lifted his head. "Think we ought to join the party yet?"

Hermione laughed, stretching into the warmth of his arms and torso. "Probably. I mean, it is your birthday, isn't it?"

He chuckled, pulling her hand up to see the dragonite ring. In the shadows of the attic, it glowed so bright, Hermione swore it could've been a dragon's eye staring right at her.

"It's _your_ birthday," she repeated, sitting up. "And you brought _me_ jewelry."

"Are you kidding?" he said, standing with a grin. "You're coming to Romania and you're going to be my bride? Mum was right, after all—best birthday bash. Ever."

Hermione smiled shyly. "There is one more thing."

"Oh?" Charlie stretched and reached for her hand, pulling her up next to him.

"My parents are here."

Charlie whipped his head in her direction, eyes wide. "They are?"

"Yeah? Remember, you wanted them to come to your birthday, here at the Burrow? They're downstairs. You met them already, actually."

"I—what? Oh. Wait a minute. Your parents' names are the Jenkins?"

"No, no, they're the Grangers. We were trying to keep this whole thing a surprise, but you came early."

Charlie put his hand on his head. "Everything's making sense now. Fuck. I acted like a proper idiot in front of them."

"Oh, you're fine. But come on. I've give you a real introduction, okay?"

He smiled. "Absolutely, love."

x

Hermione and Charlie mingled with everyone for a good hour before the cake-cutting. She felt slightly embarrassed when her dad geeked out over the details of Charlie's career, but was overall happy that Charlie and her parents got on so well. As always at every (bloody) Weasley birthday, she spent a little time with everyone before Molly called them to gather around the cake.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Arthur called when the birthday song was finished.

"Oh, I already have my wish," Charlie said, grabbing Hermione and pulling her into his lap. The ladies all gave long _awws_ over the couple as they grinned at one another.

"Would you like to tell them?" Charlie asked in a low voice, his fingers on her ring. "I'm about to yell it out, honestly."

Hermione smiled and nodded and cleared her throat. "We have an announcement to make," she said. Everyone hushed immediately, their faces looking expectantly at her and Charlie.

"We're getting married," Charlie said, laughing and lifting her left hand.

Hermione had to cover her ears to protect her hearing from the screams that erupted thereafter. Arms from various angles flung out at her as the shrieking continued. After about a minute, there was a loud, "Wait a minute!" to be heard, causing everyone to glance over at Ron with a mouthful of cake, Aurora on his arm.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who mouthed, _you didn't tell him?_ When she shook her head, Harry dropped his face into his palms.

Ron swallowed, standing. "What happened to Brock Missouri?"

Hermione's mouth closed and opened again. "What?"

"That bloke you were seeing. I wanted to meet him! I've never met an American football player before. Was looking forward to it, 'Mione!"

Hermione looked at Charlie, who was already barking with laughter. "Uh—" she said, unable to form words. Soon, the whole family joined Charlie.

"What?" Ron asked, eyes wide as he took another bite of cake. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you later, Ron," Ginny said, leaning to give Hermione a hug along with a half dozen others.

Charlie pulled her even closer to him as everyone got their cake, whispering in her ear, "After we leave, I'm taking you to one of the beds upstairs to fuck you every which way. Sideways, upside-down. You name it."

Hermione blushed as folks smiled at them, assuming he was telling much more wholesome things in her ear. "That a promise?"

He smiled. "Always." Then he pulled her in for another kiss.

The End

* * *

 _Yes, that's the end, folks! Oh, my. I've been sick in bed, which sucks, but the good thing that's come of it is I've been able to finish this fic! Yay! I hope you guys liked it. I'm very pleased with how everything turned out._

 _Thank you all SO MUCH for your support. As I mentioned some chapters back, I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for your encouragement and kind words._

 _I wouldn't be adverse to writing up a little epilogue, say, for about five years in the future. Would you all like something like that?_

 _Thanks again! As always, you are all awesome._


	22. Chapter 22

_A sweet, fluffy epilogue for your reading pleasure._

* * *

Hermione pulled her puffy coat tighter across her torso as she and Charlie walked up the drive to the Burrow. Charlie threw his arm around her, pulling her into his chest.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he said in a low voice.

"I've been waiting for nearly five years, Charlie," she said, turning to him with a wide smile. "Don't make me wait any longer, yeah?"

He grinned, took her arm to help her up the porch steps. He bent to give her a soft kiss. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him deeper, opening up to his tongue… when they heard a rather loud clearing of someone's throat.

They turned back to where Kingsley adjusted his hat, pretending to look off into the distant snow.

"Right," Charlie said. "Sorry about that, Kingsley… again."

"Well, I suppose I can't hold it against you," Kingsley said, giving the couple a half-smile.

"Well, shall we?" Hermione said, giving the door several loud knocks.

It flew open with Molly rushing out. "Oh, my goodness, it's you!" She tossed an arm around Charlie, and then reached for Hermione in a tight group hug. Pulling back, she gave Charlie a loud smack on his arm.

"Mum!"

"You haven't been here in nearly four months, Charlie. Don't think I haven't been counting the weeks! You've missed Fleur's and George's and Harry's birthdays, as well as Ginny's pregnancy party, gender reveal and—"

"Right, right, Mum—"

"You didn't let me finish, young man—"

"We're so sorry, Molly," Hermione said. "It's been so busy at the reserve—"

Molly gave a loud sigh. "Yes, you both still insist on living all the way in Romania. Well," she said, brightly. "I'm so grateful you arranged for everyone to dress up today so we could finally get that family photo I've been asking for, oh, I don't know—"

"About four years now?" Ginny popped her head through. Hermione screamed and they hugged for what seemed like a century.

"My gods, woman," Hermione said, putting a hand on Gin's belly. "You sure it's not twins?"

"Haha. Very funny. No, just one very large girl, apparently. Hey, is that the photographer?"

Kingsley turned, causing both Gin and Molly to furrow their brows. "Kingsley? That you?" Ginny asked.

"Happy holidays, Molly, Ginny." Kingsley reached out and gave them handshakes.

"Kingsley's here, to, ah, assist us," Hermione said quickly.

"Right," Molly said. "Well, come on! Everyone's already here and they're just dying to see you!"

Hermione went in and greeted all the branches of the family tree, which, even while going as fast as she could, took nearly a half an hour.

"Kingsley wants everyone to gather in the living area!" Molly announced. "We are going to get through this photography shoot before dinner, you all, so if you're hungry, just smile and don't act up, please, for the love of Merlin!"

"Why's your coat still on?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Oh, I was cold." Hermione glanced down.

"Well, off with it then. We can't take your photo while you look like a purple dragon."

"Haha," Hermione said, unzipping the coat. When she pulled it open, Ginny's jaw dropped.

"WHAT! IN THE NAME OF GODRIC GRYFFINDOR, HERMIONE GRANGER! IS! THAT!"

Everyone turned to see where Gin's finger pointed to, causing gasps and shrieks to echo throughout the Burrow.

Hermione glanced down at her very full, round belly. It pulled her white beaded dress taut all around it, so much so, Hermione thought, it was a wonder some of the pearls hadn't popped off yet. "Right," she said, looking up at their faces. "I'm seven months along. And... it's a girl!"

"AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?!" Ginny shrieked.

"We wanted it to be a surprise," Charlie said, running up to wrap an arm around Hermione's belly.

"Charlie," Molly approached, her sobs escalating to match Gin's continued scolds, "You're going to be a father!"

"That's not all," Charlie said, giving her another hug. "We asked Kingsley to join us today so we could…" he paused, glancing to the fireplace, where Kingsley stood, hands clasped together, smiling.

"Tie the knot," Kingsley supplied.

This cause rather enormous amounts of excessive shrieking and, plus even more scolds from Molly, Gin, and even Fleur for not telling them (and thereby not allowing them to help plan). But after all that was said and done, with their families all surrounding them, (including her parents who'd arrived just in time), Hermione and Charlie joined Kingsley at the fireplace, along with Bill as Best Man and Ginny as Maid of Honor.

Kingsley gave, what Hermione was certain was a beautiful and moving speech about love and family, but she couldn't hear a word of it. She kept her eyes glued to the teal color in Charlie's, smiling until her cheeks hurt, and then smiling some more.

After reciting their "I wills," which Hermione still couldn't focus on, despite having written half of them herself, she shakily put Charlie's ring on his finger. When she looked up once more in his eyes, she saw them glistening with tears, which was all it took to set off her waterworks.

After Charlie slid her band on, Kingsley clapped his hands together. "By the power invested in me, the Ministry and all the gods, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He grinned. "Go on and kiss her, Charlie."

Charlie bent her backward, pregnant belly and all, in the same way they'd been practicing for weeks, and snogged her senseless. Though Hermione barely registered almost the whole ceremony, she couldn't tune out the whistles, screams and sobs from all around. She turned to face them, hand in hand with Charlie, and made eye contact with a grinning Harry, who blew her a kiss.

She raised Charlie's arm and cheered with her family. Her _whole_ family.

* * *

 _Yay! They did it! I hope you enjoyed this little piece of fluff to finish this fic off. :)_

 _Thank you all once again for your support!_

 _ATTENTION CHARLIE LOVERS!_

 _Here is where I plug another fic I'm working on. It's very different from most fics (first-person, present-tense OC), but! It's set in Romania, so our protagonist will have quite a lot of interactions with Charlie. If you enjoyed the descriptions of the Romanian mountains and reservation I envisioned (as well as of Charlie's abdominal muscles, hehe), then have a look at An American Squib in Romania._

 _Note, though. In Another Bloody Birthday, I kind of made Charlie super ideal, but in the new fic, he'll have more flaws, what I imagine the sort Charlie Weasley would realistically have, given his upbringing, probable ideas on gender roles, etc._

 _Oh and the OC is Latinx! A lot of you let me know that you'd like to read more Latinx characters in HP FF. Her heritage will become relevant as the fic progresses._

 _So if you'd like to read something rather different in the fanfiction realm, do check out my new fic. If you have any ideas on characters you'd like that OC to interact with, let me know!_

 _Otherwise, I just finished Second Time's a Charm, a smutty Dramione two-shot, and will add to The Lemon Tree in the near future!_

 _-the ravenclaw woods_


	23. Chapter 23

_Okay, let me first say that I've been floored by the kind messages and reviews ABB has received. I'm so happy this story has resonated with so many of you and that you all love HG & CW as much as I do. _

_A few weeks ago, I received a review from silvs which stated a request for a chapter on Hermione and Charlie learning that they're having a baby. Now, normally requests in a story that's complete don't usually tickle the muse, but this one did. I think it's because I knew that in writing about this time, we'd learn about why certain things happened the way they did in the Epilogue._

 _So, here, an short and sweet early Valentine's day gift to you- the Before the Epilogue-Epilogue._

 _Oh, also it gets a bit lemony ahead. (Naturally)._

* * *

"I'm home," Charlie announced, stepping out of the floo. He glanced around for Hermione, frowning slightly.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He wondered if it was just him being spoiled. Ever since he'd been pulling late nights a few times a week, Hermione had been greeting him by jumping in his arms, which usually led to a make-out session on the couch, or sometimes even the floor in front of the floo. Even now, four years after she'd moved in with him, the bedroom seemed much too far sometimes. Most of the time. He smiled to himself.

He peeked in the kitchen and walked down the hallway toward their bedroom.

"I'm in here." Her voice was more like a croak.

Charlie dropped his tool bag and ran to the room, where Hermione was huddled under what looked like a mountain of blankets and throws. The room was dark, as she'd pulled all the curtains except for the balcony glass. The sunset threw a streak of orange light across her abdomen, reaching toward the wall. "Hey," he said. "What happened? What's the matter?"

"I'm just not feeling well," she said, blowing her nose with a handkerchief for emphasis.

He walked quickly to the bed and had a seat. Hermione yelped as his weight made her jumped up a bit. "Sorry," he said. He grabbed her hand, his thumb running nervous circles on it. "Do you think you need to go to a Healer, Hermione? This is what, the third time in a couple months I've found you ill in bed? Not to mention Longbottom told me that you fell asleep at the lab earlier this week. That's not you, love."

Hermione swallowed and blinked, forcing two tears to stream down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey." Charlie leaned over, pulling her towards his chest. He hated when she was upset because he always felt so helpless. All he knew to do was hold her, which never seemed like quite enough.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I know we have reservations for—" she took a shuddering breath— "for Valentine's—" The 'day' part of the sentence turned into a wail and Charlie tightened his arms around her.

"Don't worry about that," he mumbled into her ear. "I don't bloody care about reservations."

"Charlie," she whispered, taking in a long breath. He waited, his spine stiffening with the urgency in her voice. "I went to a Healer today."

He pulled back, his eyes wide. He gulped. "What did— what did they—"

"I'm pregnant."

Charlie's whole body froze, as though she'd just stupefied him.

"I know we weren't, weren't planning this. I wasn't planning this. I don't know how we—"

"When I came in late," he said, running a hand through his hair. "That first night a month and a half ago. Remember? When Anna gave us dinner. We shagged practically inside the floo, ate the lasagna leaning against the warm bricks."

Hermione laughed, wiping her eyes. "Gods. You're sure we forgot the charm then?"

"I remembered it the next morning, actually. But you were just on your monthly and I figured—"

"Charlie!" she said, smacking him. "That's when I'm _most_... fertile, you, you—"

"Well, that certainly explains why you wouldn't let me in the bloody house without pulling my cock out first."

Hermione laughed as he pulled the covers down, revealing her violet flannel pyjamas. He pulled up her top and ran his large, calloused hand over her belly. "Our baby's in there," he said, and the reality of it struck him again, only this time, his body filled with an unnameable warmth. He was shocked to feel the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes.

"Charlie," Hermione breathed. "Are you—"

Before she could finish, he flung his face to hers, kissing her as deeply and sweetly as he could. He pulled back just as fast. "You're pregnant."

"I am."

"Hermione," he said, wiping an eye. "This is brilliant."

"It is?" she asked. "But what about your Spiraltongue project? And we've just started the second of tests mixing Rama's tears with toadleaf—"

"It's brilliant, love." He leaned down to press his lips to her belly. "Hello, beautiful baby," he said in a low voice. When he looked up, he was amused to see the widened pupils of Hermione's eyes.

"So you're okay with it?" She was a bit breathless.

"Did you not hear me at all, woman?" He lowered his head, kissing each hip.

"But, but we're supposed to get married sometime this year—"

"Who bloody cares about that?" He gave her a lopsided grin.

She smacked his head. "Arsehole. I'm _finally_ ready, Charlie—"

"So let's get married."

"But, oh gods, your mum, Charlie, she's going to rile me up with her incessant meddling—"

"So let's not get married."

"Charlie!"

By then he'd already pulled off her pyjama bottoms. He rested his head on the top of her thigh, staring up at her.

"Rama's tear treatment has helped me a lot," Hermione said. "But while I'm pregnant, I don't know if I can do it. Go through all the fuss of wedding planning, plus your mum and the way she gets about grandchildren—"

"So let's not tell them."

She blinked. "What?"

"Let's not tell them. Wouldn't be unusual for us to coop up here for a few months, yeah? Then, when you're ready, we'll surprise 'em."

"All of them?"

"The lot."

She gulped. "And the wedding?"

He smiled, his fingers edging under the band of her knickers. "Let's elope, love."

"Charlie!" She hit at his fingers, pushing them away. "You know I want my parents there. And Harry and Gin and the boys—"

"So let's hit them with a surprise wedding, too, then."

"How the hell do we do that?"

He shrugged. "You're the intelligent one of us." Her eyes were on the French doors, and he knew she was caught in a whirlwind of plans already. Probably brilliant ones, knowing her. He took the opportunity to pull her knickers off and drop them on the floor.

"Charlie," she said, giving him a gentle kick, but her eyes were still glazed. "We could tell them we're doing a family portrait. And show up with a minister."

"Ah. I knew you'd come up with something perfect." He tried to pry apart her knees, but she gave him a harder kick in the abs.

"Your mum will lose her shite, though."

"She'll live."

"So will Ginny."

"She'll live, too." Looking up at her furrowed brows, he ran his hand back on her belly. "Don't bloody worry about them, Hermione. What matters now— all that matters, really— is that you, future Mrs. Weasley, and our baby feel as good as possible. And if that means keeping my family in the dark for a few months, then so be it. You have my blessing."

She exhaled slowly and put her hands on his, smiling. "We're having a baby."

This time, her legs parted under his hands. "Charlie," she said, moaning under his fingers. "I'm not kidding about feeling off. I'm not really in the mood for sex."

"Who said anything about sex?" Before she could respond, he pressed his tongue to her clit. Smiling at her gasp and the subsequent grabbing of his hair and pulling him closer, he slid his tongue up and down her cunt until she refused to stop moaning _fuck_.

He glanced up. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you bloody dare, you—"

He chuckled, returning his mouth to her, where he went to work until she arched her back and trembled and whispered his name. Afterward, he rested his head on her hip, placing a hand over her belly as she caught her breath.

"Charlie?"

"Yes, love?"

"I'm hungry."

He laughed, causing the whole bed to shake. "Good thing we have reservations, then, yeah?"

She smiled. "I need to get ready."

He lifted his body, watching her stroll to the armoire bare-arsed. "Wear that green dress with the—" he made a motion with his hand to his chest. "Cleavage."

Hermione snorted. "We barely make it through the floo when I put that one on."

"That's the idea." He grinned as she scoffed, but he was delighted to see that was precisely the dress she grabbed.

"I love you," she said as she zipped the dress up.

"I love you, too, love." He turned over in time to see her adjust her breasts. Jumping up, he grabbed her waist and placed her on the dresser, settling his hips between her legs.

"Charlie!" she squealed. "I just put this on!"

"I just need to kiss you again." He placed a hand on her belly as he did so. She eagerly sucked on his tongue, which caused his cock to grow even harder.

"Well," Hermione said, breaking the kiss and wrapping her hand around his erection. "I suppose we could fit in a celebratory fuck."

"Are you sure?" he pushed back. "You said—"

"Shut up and fuck me, Charlie."

He smiled and pulled his cock out of his trousers. "Well, we do have a lot to celebrate, don't we?"

She smiled, moaning into his mouth as he entered her. He thrust harder and harder, causing whatever her response was to dissolve into groans. Charlie placed his hand between her legs, eager to make the future Mrs. Weasley feel as good as possible again and again.

* * *

 _Thank you again! I am SO grateful for you. -the ravenclaw woods_


End file.
